


Mixed Drabbles

by mylifeisloki



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M, drabbles!, kid!romanogers, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12485940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: Just a collection of drabbles for various pairings (Steve/Natasha, Thor/Loki, Steve/Bucky, etc.) I'm working on through my writer's block. Tags and rating will be updated as the chapters are published!





	1. Little Stevie's Secret Life (Captasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'You make two lunches every morning and give one of them to me every day' AU

 

For the last six weeks, Sarah Rogers had been doing double work. She made two lunches every school night; two sandwiches, two juice boxes, two little snacks, two pieces of fruit… She even packed two napkins and two forks, when it was necessary. The last time she checked, she only had the one child and although Steve’s appetite had improved, he certainly wasn’t capable of eating that much. At first, Sarah had just given him a strange look and obliged; Steve had a good head on his shoulders and she didn’t want to question him in a way that would discourage him from doing something he clearly felt was necessary. All he’d told her was that he ‘needed’ two lunches every single day.

Two weeks in, it occurred to her that Steve might need two lunches because someone was forcibly taking one away from him. He was no stranger to bullying and she knew very well that even at eight years old, the last thing he wanted to do was tell someone that he was being picked on. It was bad enough that Bucky stood up for him whenever he could; Steve wasn’t about to tell Sarah when something like that was bothering him. Still, she had to ask.

The conversation had been a very short one.

 

_ Sarah decided to broach the subject while Steve was drawing on the floor one day, his skinny little arms all bent up at the elbows as he tried to get his picture just right. _

_ “Steve? How’s school?” _

_ “Good.” _

_ Well, that was maddeningly unhelpful. “Just good? Is anything interesting going on?” _

_ “Nope.” _

_ Sarah sighed to herself and chewed on her lip as she added another stitch to the sweater she was knitting. “Nothing at all? Aren’t you learning anything over there?” _

_ Steve shrugged. “Sometimes,” he answered. “Mrs. Rosen said she’s gonna hang my pictures up for parent-teacher. And she said she’s gonna let me start painting next week.” _

_ Art was Steve’s one and only favorite subject. He’d been drawing since he could first hold a crayon and now that he was in school full time, he’d progressed to wanting to know more about all the different kinds of art. He wanted paints for his birthday, he wanted to visit all the art museums in the city one by one, and all he wanted to do at home when Bucky couldn’t be there was draw and draw and draw. _

_ “And everyone’s being nice to you?” _

_ The way he paused made Sarah wish she hadn’t ever asked that question. It seemed as though Steve was just a natural target for bullies; he’d been tormented in pre-school and he’d managed to find people willing to make his life just a little more difficult in every grade he’d passed so far. The thing was that Bucky couldn’t protect him all the time as he was a year older and perpetually in a different class. It was an unfortunate thing that Sarah knew they couldn’t exactly help or prevent in the slightest, but oh how she wished there was something she could do. _

_ “Not everyone,” he answered slowly. “But they’re not all mean.” _

_ Sarah knew that she couldn’t just ask outright whether or not someone was taking his lunch; Steve wouldn’t admit it anyway and it would probably make him more upset than he already was, if that was the case. She’d do an experiment and find out on her own whether or not Steve was keeping something important from her. _

 

One morning, there was only one brown paper bag waiting for Steve on the counter.

“Mom? Where’s the other one?”

Sarah glanced back from where she was washing dishes and pretended to be surprised. “Oh, I must have forgotten,” she claimed. “We don’t have time for another one, Steve. You’ll be late. Go on.”

For a second there, Steve looked like he might insist that he get another lunch to take to school, but he eventually just took the one bag, gave Sarah her usual kiss, and headed out the door to meet Bucky and walk around the corner to school. She supposed that meant it wasn’t so important or he would have said something about it. Right?

Except that at half past three when he came home, Steve was ravenous. He ate twice his normal snack and drank what felt like his weight in water before settling down enough to do his homework. Sarah decided that she wasn’t going to do that again; if Steve was having trouble in school with someone taking his lunch, the only way she was going to find out was by contacting his teacher.

So she did. She wrote a nice little letter and sent it in a sealed envelope with Steve to school and expected a response back by the end of the day if only because the teacher was well aware of Steve’s predilection towards finding danger pretty much anywhere he went. But the response surprised her. Instead of expressing concern about Steve and an as yet to be named classmate, she denied all knowledge of the problem. She said that while Steve had some issues with other children here and there, she wasn’t aware of any ongoing problem. She promised that she would look into it and report back if she found anything untoward.

But nothing was found. The teacher swore that Steve was perfectly happy in school and aside from a rather passionate encounter wherein he and an older child got into a shoving match he seemed to have a peaceful school life. It confounded his mother to no end, but she didn’t stop making those lunches.

 

Three months after the first time he’d told her what he needed her to do, Steve came up to her twisting his hands together. “Mommy…” He only called her that when he wanted something, so he had Sarah’s attention right away. “Can you make your chocolate chip cookies so I can bring some to school?”

Sarah lowered the book she’d been reading and gave him a patient look. “Is there a special reason?”

Steve averted his gaze and she knew that whatever came out of his mouth next was most likely a lie. “No, I just--- I just wanted them,” he said. He had never been very good at deceiving anyone; it was one of his most admirable qualities. “Can you make them please?”

Sarah wanted to know why. She was curious and slightly worried, but… she also knew she was going to do this for him because he was asking so nicely. It wasn’t like he was going to do anything nefarious with chocolate chip cookies. After dinner that night, she pulled chilled dough from the fridge and baked up a batch of her ‘famous’ chocolate chip cookies. She packed a separate little container full of cookies and tucked it into a bigger bag along with the two lunches she packed for the morning. Maybe she couldn’t stop Steve from having some issues at school, but she could definitely facilitate making things a little easier for him.

Halloween came and went without anything changing. Parent-teacher conferences were a wonderful success and Sarah got to see Steve’s work hung up in a place of honor in the art room, along with getting a glowing review from the art teacher. The gym teacher wasn’t nearly as complementary, but that was to be expected; Steve’s asthma limited the amount of exercise he could actually do and therefore, his assessment of Steve was limited as well. Sarah told him as much, but she assured him that Steve was trying his best in every subject, including one that was basically stacked against him.

With Thanksgiving fast approaching, Sarah began making plans to host Bucky and his family as it was her year; his mother would chip in for the meal and they would wind up cooking together while Bucky’s father watched the children- and the parade. Just like every year since their boys had joined at the hip and refused to separate, the two women would stuff their family nearly to bursting and send them off to play outside while they cleaned up and got dessert ready. 

As always, things would be a little hectic with five little rowdy mouths to feed, but that was the way both mothers liked it. Their family was all at that table together; they had friends, but no other relatives and Thanksgiving was all about family.

This year, most things went smoothly save for a coughing fit from Steve after supper and an argument between two of the Barnes girls that was settled when Bucky stepped in to mediate. Sarah and Winnie were just finishing up drying the dishes when Steve came wandering into the kitchen twisting his hands again. They exchanged a look.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Winnie asked. “Don’t you want to go play with the others?”

Steve shook his head a little bit. “Me and Buck wanna ride our bikes to the store,” he blurted out. “Is that okay?”

Sarah frowned. “Why?” It was strange that Steve didn’t want to play; usually he was out there running around nearly until he collapsed. She had to be vigilant most of the time, although having George out there definitely helped for today.

Steve shrugged timidly and both mothers immediately stepped closer to him even as he shied away, ducking his head like he was too embarrassed to say what was bothering him. Sarah remained suspicious, but Winnie crouched down to rub his arm and Steve went right for it, blinking away big, fat tears as he rubbed at his eyes. “I just don’t wanna,” he whimpered. “They’re gonna laugh at me.”

This didn’t feel right. Steve was so thick headed and bold that he almost never gave even a little bit of attention to those kids who made fun of him and the Barnes kids were like family to him. Sarah thought this sounded off, but she helped Winnie in giving him a big group hug to make him feel better.

Steve sniffled for a few minutes as he tucked his head between their shoulders, but he bounced back pretty quickly and gave them a pleading look.

“Can we still go?” He pouted. “Please?”

Sarah couldn’t say no to that face. The boys rode their bikes to the store around the corner all the time and she was sure Bucky would take care of Steve if need be. “You come back in time for dessert, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mama,” he said obediently. “I promise.”

He turned and bolted out of the house, where he and Bucky frantically grabbed their bikes and started pedaling away down the street. Sarah and Winnie watched from the kitchen window and the former shook her head. “I think we’ve just been played.”

Winnie nodded slowly. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m beginning to think so too.”

But they both knew the boys would be well behaved. The worst they’d ever gotten into was a fight and no matter how protective their mothers were, that wasn’t going to stop. It was in Steve’s nature to defend people and as long as he got in their way, he was going to wind up on the receiving end of a few punches. Bucky would hold him back as much as he could, though. They balanced each other out that way. As the women got back to cleaning up, Sarah moved to the stack of plastic containers they'd filled with various leftovers and frowned.

“Winnie? Did you move one of these…?”

Aside from a tupperware that went mysteriously missing, the holiday went very well. The boys came back with minutes to spare and washed up before dessert, pigged out again, and their mothers found them passed out on Steve’s bed with their legs tangled together. It was a successful day all around.

After that, it was only a couple of weeks until Christmas and Sarah knew she had plenty of things to prepare; they’d be going to the Barnes’ home on Christmas Eve to celebrate before Santa came in the morning and she was responsible for bringing the dessert for that night, not to mention presents for everyone, including a couple for Steve that would be from her, not Santa. On her days off, while Steve was in school with his two lunches and his double life, she did some last minute shopping, and wrapped until paper cuts were a problem and there wasn’t a scrap of scotch tape left in the house.

Christmas Eve was just the right kind of chaos; children opening gifts, people hugging and drinking just enough to be a little tipsy, good food, and amazing Christmas lights. With two bags of gifts at their sides, Steve and Sarah made their way home past his bedtime and she ushered him right into his room to sleep so ‘Santa’ could come visit. Steve was too tired to protest and when she checked on him ten minutes later, he was flat on his face and snoring into his pillow with his bottom up in the air.

Steve and Sarah had a little ritual for Christmas morning. Obviously Steve was up bright and early to open his Christmas presents, but then they would go to church for morning mass, come back home, and have a nice little breakfast together. Sarah made pancakes and Steve ate more than he could handle, resulting in a little pouting as his stomach ached while he played with his brand new art set. They didn’t have much, but Sarah had been saving for a while now and with the little discount she’d earned at the art store, she was able to get him a really good one.

What she didn't expect was her little boy pulling on his backpack and asking her to go see Bucky for a little while. Christmas was usually a day where he didn't go out; why the change?

“Where are you two going?”

“There’s this big pile of snow in the schoolyard and we wanna race down on our sleds.”

Sarah wasn’t even facing Steve and she knew he was lying. Maybe it was just something about facing his mother alone knowing that he was telling a lie that he couldn’t quite move past because that performance he’d given when Winnie was there was a masterpiece. He was fibbing an awful lot lately; Sarah was very aware that he was likely doing something perfectly innocent, but she didn’t like that he wasn’t telling her the truth. Solution? She’d interrogate Bucky when he came over for New Year’s Eve.

“Bundle up. It’s cold outside,” she said. “And make sure you’re home in time for dinner.”

Steve hopped up to give her a kiss and she watched him run off to get ready and leave. He came home just before dinner looking proud of himself and Sarah assumed that whatever they were up to involved some kind of physical challenge. They ate dinner together as usual; Sarah made ham and potatoes along with a chocolate cream pie for dessert. Steve was uncharacteristically quiet through dinner, but when he neglected to dig into his pie with his usual gusto, she decided that something was wrong.

“Steve? Are you alright?”

Snapping to attention, Steve gave her a little smile and took a big forkful of his dessert. “Yes, Mama.”

Sarah tilted her head to the side. “Are you sure?”

Steve nodded quickly and when he pushed his plate forward to ask for more whipped cream, Sarah smiled and let the subject drop. Later that night, they fell asleep curled up on the couch together while they watched a Christmas special.

During winter break, Steve spent most days with Bucky at his house. Sarah was a working mother and she couldn’t leave Steve alone, but Winnie stayed at home most of the time anyway so she was more than happy to have him over. They went ice skating together as a group on the weekend and for New Year’s Eve they decided to camp out on the roof of Bucky’s building to watch the fireworks. With thick blankets bundled around them, the kids valiantly tried to stay awake as long as they possibly could, but only Steve and Bucky made it to midnight.

Not ten minutes after, they were both sound asleep and had to be carried down just like the girls.

 

The next morning, Sarah finally got her opportunity to question Bucky when he got up and wandered into the kitchen looking for a drink. No one else was up except him and Sarah, who had already made herself a cup of coffee and sat at the little kitchen table to drink. She watched as Bucky got a glass of water and took a deep breath.

“Bucky,” she said. “What does your mother do if she catches you lying?”

He stilled immediately and turned to face her. “She says we can’t have dessert and we have to stay in bed and think about it.”

Sarah nodded. “Mmhm. What do you think she’d say if I found out you were lying to me?”

Bucky swallowed visibly. “I’d get in a lot of trouble,” he said slowly. “But I’m not—“

Sarah held up one finger to stop him there. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what you and Steve have been up to?”

Bucky’s jaw set immediately and she actually admired that about both of them. They’d really do anything for one another; there wasn’t a doubt in her mind. “We’re not up to anything, Auntie Sarah.”

“No? So you haven’t been sneaking around and keeping something from me?”

There was so much resolve in his eyes that Sarah nearly felt bad for him, but she kept her gaze on him and remained as severe as she dared without actually coming out and saying that she was going to get him into trouble. She just wanted to plant the idea in his head; he’d always been more likely to follow the rules than Steve.

“No, Auntie,” he said again. “I swear.”

And that was it. She wouldn’t press him any further, so Sarah got up with her mug and gave Bucky a look. “You shouldn’t swear, it’s rude. Now drink your water and go back to your room.”

Bucky gulped down the rest of his water and high tailed it out of there before Sarah had time to change her mind. If they were hiding something, it was clearly something that was important enough to keep secret and not something so dangerous that Bucky would look a little scared. What on Earth was Steve up to, and what was he dragging Bucky into?

 

When the kids went back to school, Sarah and Winnie arranged to go out and have lunch together. It was their personal celebration and they even had a couple of drinks because hey, the kids went back and now they had time to themselves again. Sarah usually only had two days off a week if that, but they weren’t usually weekends and she’d missed her quiet mornings after Steve went to school; she wasn’t that mother who wanted to spend every single second with her child, alright? Time apart made them both better people and she felt like that held true for most relationships, familial or otherwise.

Mid-January, however, she was reminded exactly why it would be so much easier to be a stay at home parent. She was making her rounds at the hospital when she was paged to come to the nurse’s station for a phone call. Immediately presuming that Steve was hurt, she rushed over and picked up the call from, she guessed it, Steve’s principal.

“Mrs. Rogers, I have your son in my office right now.”

“What happened this time? Is he alright?”

“We’re going to need you to come down and pick him up. He’s fine, but he’s had a bloody nose and he’s got a bruise forming over his eye.”

Of course he did. Sarah sighed. She really couldn’t leave her shift right now and she was sure this was yet another we-need-Steve-to-behave talk… The fact was that they needed the money and she couldn’t leave and get paid. Winnie would pick him up.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t leave work right now. I’m going to send Mrs. Barnes to get him, she’s the emergency contact in his file as well and she can speak to you on my behalf.”

“I trust you’ll speak to your son when you get home.”

“Of course, thank you for letting me know. Mrs. Barnes will be there shortly.”

Winnie assured her that she would head over immediately and Sarah went back to work already wondering what had happened. Steve had been in plenty of little fights in his short life, but there was usually a story when things got bad enough to make him bleed. The rest of her shift was really very long and arduous; it took her some time to get home that evening, but when she did she knew she had to have a conversation first with Winnie, then with Steve.

When she arrived at the Barnes’ home, she went right into the kitchen to speak to Winnie first while the boys went quiet in the living room. She’d yet to truly punish Steve for getting himself into a fight for the ‘right reasons’, but she also knew that if they were getting quiet, something was happening here that made them nervous. She was given a cup of coffee immediately and sat down at the table to talk.

“Alright, tell me. What did the principal say?”

“Apparently Steve saw a couple of the older boys tormenting a girl in his grade and stepped between them. When they warned him to back down, he told them to…” She smiled in amusement even now. “He told them that if they wanted to pick on someone, they could try picking on him and see what happens.”

Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head. Her brave little boy, always putting himself in harm’s way for the sake of someone else. She couldn’t very well punish him for trying to protect someone, could she? What kind of lesson would that be?

“I take it they tried,” she mused over another sip of her coffee.

Winnie nodded. “He’s got a black eye and his nose is still pretty tender, but… it doesn’t end there. Steve got in a few good hits, apparently, and managed to elbow one of the boys in the stomach. And the girl...” She smiled a little again. “The girl scratched the other one’s face when he went after Steve again.”

Sarah let out a small laugh. “So he’s got an accomplice this time,” she remarked. “Any punishment?”

“No, the principal thought he’d been punished enough, but he suggested you have a talk with Steve about telling an adult when something like that is happening instead of taking matters into his own hands.”

“Ah, yes. So he can complain to a teacher who’ll brush over it and let it happen again.”

Winnie nodded and sighed. “Unfortunately. You know Steve better than anyone and I think we both know he’s not going to stop…”

“No,” Sarah murmured. “He’s not.”

When they returned home that night, Sarah asked Steve to get himself ready for bed and wandered into his bedroom so they could have that talk. It was a talk they’d had several times before, but she felt like it was her duty to see this through. Still, the sight of Steve sitting defiantly in his bed with a nice shiner darkening his eye and a slightly swollen nose warmed her heart. He was a fighter, her baby boy. He wasn’t ever going to allow injustice to unfold in front of him. She just hoped to God he understood that his life was precious too.

“I had to do it, Mama.” She’d only just sat down on the edge of his bed when Steve spoke up, his skinny arms crossed over his chest. “They were bothering her and they wouldn’t stop.”

“I know you did, Steve,” she answered. “But you know that violence isn’t the answer.”

Steve huffed a little. “I know,” he mumbled. “But they won’t  _ listen _ . I had to do something.” He looked up at her and she could see the stubbornness in his gaze. “How come it’s not the answer when you can’t do nothing else?”

He had a good point, didn’t he? If he was being victimized or someone innocent was being victimized, would she really want him to run away? The mother in her said yes, she wanted him to get as far away from the trouble as he possibly could. But would that make him a good man?

“That’s a good point you’ve got there, sweetheart,” she admitted. “But listen, I want you to promise me that you won’t fight with your fists first, okay?”

“I know, Mama. Words first.”

Sarah smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “That’s my boy,” she said proudly. “Go to sleep now, alright?”

Steve slid down under the covers and curled up on his side. “G’night, Mama. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Sleep tight.”

 

Steve’s bruises faded like they always had and Sarah went on making two lunches every single day for school. As life went on, she nearly forgot that anything was strange was going on; as it were, it felt like Steve had always been given two lunches. But it was the night before Valentine’s Day that she found him at the desk in his room decorating a pink card with lots of little hearts and flowers. She watched from the doorway as he painstakingly wrote out ‘Be Mine?’ on the front cover and opened it up to scrawl a message inside. So. Her little boy had a crush on someone. Sarah smiled to herself and quietly stepped away to leave him to it.

The next day when she got home from work, she found that Winnie had reports of Steve that were very different than the usual. Apparently Steve had been quiet all afternoon and even on their walk home, he said very little. When they got home, he said he wasn’t hungry for dinner and closed the door to his room without any explanation. Obviously that worried Sarah and she made him something to eat anyway because going to bed hungry simply wasn’t acceptable in her home. With a bowl of macaroni and cheese in hand, she made her way up to Steve’s room and knocked twice before letting herself in.

“Steve? Hun, you need to eat something,” she reasoned as she set the bowl down on his bedside table and sat down beside him. Steve was all curled up in bed with a toy car he was just pushing back and forth beside him; he looked sad and Sarah had to literally push back the part of her that wanted to protect him from the whole world. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Steve shook his head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” She reached out to push his hair back and offered a warm smile.

He nodded, but he looked like he was holding back tears. “Yes, Mama. I’m sure.”

Sarah wasn’t going to push him. “Alright, baby. Try to eat a little something.” She leaned down to kiss his forehead and lightly squeezed his shoulder before leaving him to it. But as she headed towards the door, she noticed the corner of the same card he’d made the night before peeking out from under a sketchbook on his desk. Oh, dear. Something must have gone wrong.

“Mama?”

Turning back, Sarah gave him a warm smile. “Yes?”

Steve sat up in bed and his lower lip wobbled a little bit as he averted his gaze. That was all she needed. Sarah went right back to him and gathered Steve into her arms as he started to cry. He was still her little boy and she knew that he tried to be so strong all the time, but sometimes he just needed to let it out. She held him for a long time and stroked his hair as he worked himself up and finally settled back down. It never got easier knowing that your baby was having some kind of trouble at school or had suffered one heartache or another; Sarah just wanted to be there for him as much as she could be.

The next morning, Steve said nothing about it. He had breakfast with her as usual and it was like nothing had happened the night before. Still, Sarah wondered about it. She wondered what would be the best way to ask him again what had happened without actually pressuring him.

 

Weeks passed.

 

The next time Steve’s secrets came into play was sometime in mid-April when Sarah, thankfully on her day off, got a call from the school again. She was told very little of the problem, only that Steve was alright and that she needed to come down as soon as possible to talk with the principal about a ‘troubling, ongoing matter’. Obviously she assumed that Steve had gotten into another fight or something like that, but the truth surprised her.

“I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “He did what?”

The principal leaned forward a little and folded his hands together on the desk in front of him, glancing only briefly at the other man in the room before turning his gaze back to Sarah. “I think we both know that Steve is a spirited boy. But mouthing off to a teacher the way he did--”

“In defense of a friend,” she corrected. “I’m not making accusations, but I want the truth. Surely you understand how difficult it is to imagine Steve lashing out like that for no reason.”

“Be that as it may,” he sighed. “We cannot tolerate that kind of response.”

Sarah gave him a look. “You said that Steve lashed out when his friend was threatened. In what way--”

“I didn’t  _ threaten _ her,” the other man said. “She kneed a boy between his legs and I was holding her back from him. I may have said that she would be in trouble for what she did, but that was all.”

“You touched her,” Sarah said. “Did it occur to you to ask her why she might have kneed this boy the way she did?”

The men exchanged a look. “With all due respect, Mrs. Rogers,” the principal said. “The things he said don’t excuse her violence. Boys will be boys.”

Sarah stiffened immediately. “Boys will be boys,” she repeated quietly, shaking her head in clear disapproval. “I’d like to speak to my son.”

She was shown into the next room, where her baby boy sat on a bench high enough that his feet didn’t hit the ground. She crouched down in front of him.

“Are you alright?”

Steve nodded. “Yes, Mama,” he said quietly. “Am I in trouble?”

“Well, you know you did something wrong, but I want to hear your side of it.” Sarah moved to sit beside him and the men gathered in front of him as well. They would get the truth; Steve didn’t lie about things like this. He was all too honest when it came to the things he’d done wrong, at least when his mother was concerned.

Steve took the deepest breath he could. “Johnny was bothering Natasha and we told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. So I told one of the lunch ladies like I was ‘sposed to and she told Johnny to leave us alone. But he didn’t! Then he said he was gonna beat me up and Natasha kneed him in his privates.” He glanced up at the men, who were shaking their heads, and frowned as he looked back to his mother. “And then Mr. Brody came in and he was yelling ‘cause Natasha hit Johnny, but I tried to tell him what happened and he  _ wouldn’t listen _ .”

He was so outraged by the idea that someone wasn’t listening to him tell the truth, Sarah could tell. She nodded along and gestured for him to continue. “So then he told me that Natasha was gonna get in trouble and I’d get in trouble too if I didn’t stop, so I told him he was stupid because it wasn’t Natasha’s fault.”

Sarah did  _ not _ smile. “I see,” she said. “Sweetheart, can you tell me what it is that Johnny was saying to Natasha?”

Steve made a face and looked down again for a moment. “He said he wanted her to kiss him,” he said softly. “She said no, but he said that if she didn’t, he was going to hurt me. She only hit him when he tried to kiss her anyway.”

Well, that was it. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “I’m going to have another word with Mr. Brody and Mr. Harrison. You just wait here.” 

“Boys will be boys?” She repeated once the door was closed behind them again. “Let me be very clear. If you punish my son or that little girl for this incident, then I’ll report you both to the DOE so fast, you won’t know what hit you. Boys will be boys?” Sarah was outraged, but she knew it was best to at least keep her voice steady and severe instead of raised. “That other boy, Johnny?  _ He _ should be suspended. You should be bringing  _ his _ parents up here to talk about treating people the right way and the consequences that might happen should he continue to act the way he’s acting now.”

She gave them both a disappointed look. “You two should be ashamed of yourselves,” she said coldly. “It’s because of things like this that men grow up thinking they can demand whatever they want from the women in their lives and be excused for it.”

Sarah marched back out and found Steve watching her with wide eyed adoration. “I think you two can go back to class now,” she said calmly. Steve gave her a kiss and Sarah left the school that day feeling very proud of her son.

 

The third phone call Sarah got from Steve’s school was during yet another work day. She was summoned and answered the phone expecting another fight, but she was told instead that she needed to come and pick Steve up. He’d had a rather intense asthma attack and they felt that he needed to leave for the day to recuperate. This time, Sarah left work to get him herself; Winnie would have gone, but this was more than just a little fight, this was his health.

She showed up and signed in before rushing down the hall towards the nurse’s office. She was more than a little familiar with where it was located, having been there at least a dozen times over the years. The nurse greeted her and told Sarah that he was alright, but he was winded and tired from his ordeal. It would be best that he go home and sleep just to recover-- Sarah agreed, of course. Steve’s attacks weren’t always awful, but sometimes they worried her.

They were reviewing his maintenance and medication when Sarah noticed that she could see just enough into the other room to know that Steve wasn’t alone. At first she thought Bucky had somehow made his way down here, but it was someone else. There was a little girl sitting on the cot beside Steve. She had bright red hair and she smiled shyly as Steve pulled one of the brown paper bags she’d packed that morning out of his bookbag and handed it over to her.

“Mrs. Rogers?”

Sarah snapped out of it and shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. Who’s that little girl sitting with Steve? I’ve never seen her before.”

The nurse looked surprised. “That’s Natasha,” she said. “As far as I know, she and Steve are nearly always together, at least while they’re in school. He’s never mentioned her?”

She was the little girl he’d been defending when he went off on that teacher. And she had to wonder if she was also the little girl he’d defended the time before that. “Not really,” she admitted. “She’s a nice girl?”

“Oh, very nice. She can take care of herself, but Steve’s like her little knight in shining armor anyway.” The nurse chuckled a little and leaned back. “But it’s all very sad. She’s only got her father and they don’t have very much. She lives in a shelter.”

All of a sudden, things clicked for Sarah in a way that they just hadn’t before. The extra lunches were for Natasha, because she didn’t have anyone to make her lunch in the morning. Maybe she couldn’t afford hot lunch, maybe she didn’t like it… Whatever the case might be, Steve saw someone in need and wanted to help. He really was special, wasn’t he?

“I see,” she said softly. “Well, I’d better make sure he’s ready to go. The sooner he rests, the better.”

In the other room, Steve and Natasha talked quietly as they sat together, their hands clasped together between them. Steve was still a little out of breath and he looked rather drawn, but he was smiling through it. He looked like he was actually very happy right where he was. 

“Steve?” Sarah approached and sat down on the edge of the cot to speak to her son. “How are you feeling?” She glanced at the girl beside him. “And who is this?”

“I’m okay, Mama,” he promised. “This is Natasha. She’s my friend.” 

Natasha’s curls were close to unruly and her clothes were clearly hand-me-downs, but she was blessed with big, curious green eyes and a sweet smile. “Hi, Mrs. Rogers,” she said shyly. Oh, she had an accent too; Sarah thought it sounded Russian, but her voice was so low she couldn’t be sure. 

“Hello, sweetheart. It’s nice to meet you. I see you’ve been keeping Steve company until I got here. Thank you for that.”

Natasha and Steve both blushed and simultaneously looked away from one another. Ah, so this was the girl to whom Steve wanted to give that Valentine. Sarah felt like there was a lot more to this little story, but she preferred to take things just as they were.

“Steve, we should go home.”

Steve frowned. “I’m okay, Mama…”

“You’ve had quite an attack, I understand. We need to get you into bed for the rest of the day.”

She didn’t leave any room for argument, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if Steve argued anyway. Already his jaw was set and he gave her a hard look like he was coming up with reasons why he ought to stay. But under her gaze, Natasha leaned into him a little bit and whispered something she couldn’t hear, something that made Steve relax.

He considered his options for a moment before pulling away and digging through his bag again. Sarah watched as he handed Natasha the second bagged lunch and offered her a warm smile. “For snack,” he shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tasha.”

Both children slid off the cot and held hands until they were in the hallway with Sarah beside them. Once they’d said goodbye, Steve exchanged Natasha’s hand for his mother’s and they left school to head home. She did insist that Steve get into bed and rest, but when he asked for something to eat before he took a nap, she acquiesced and let him eat right there in his room.

“Natasha seems very nice,” she said.

Steve glanced up. “She’s nice to me. She’s not nice to some people.”

Sarah smiled. “I bet she’s nice to you because you’re nice to her.”

Nodding slowly, Steve picked at his sandwich for a moment. “Are you mad ‘cause I’ve been bringing her food? ‘Cause she was hungry and she said the school lunch was icky, so she didn’t wanna eat it…”

Her little prince. “No, Steve. I’m not mad.”

“Tasha says her papa is always working,” he mumbled around another bite of his sandwich. “And they don’t live in a house, Mama. They live in this other place with all these strangers. ‘Cept Tasha knows some of ‘em. She says it’s not so bad there, but I don’t know…”

Steve rambled on for a while about his friend; she liked to dance, but she said she couldn’t take dance classes because they were too expensive. It turned out that he also drew a lot of pictures for her, especially pictures of ballerinas and puppies. Sarah listened and her heart just soared now that she knew why Steve had been doing all the things he’d been doing, though she wished he hadn’t kept it from her.

“That’s why I had to go see her on Thanksgiving. Can you believe that? She’d never had Thanksgiving dinner, so I said I’m gonna bring you some of my Mama’s cooking and it’s real good--”

Sarah frowned for a moment and let out a short laugh. The missing tupperware. The boys had gone out that day not to go to the store, but to bring Natasha leftovers from dinner.

“D’you think we could have her over one day? ‘Cause I know she’d love it and I’d have a lotta fun and Bucky! Bucky likes her too, I swear, so she’ll get along with everyone…”

Unbelievable. Steve had a whole other life in school and she hadn’t even known about it.

“Mama?”

“Yes. Baby, yes, of course she can come over,” she said warmly. Now that he’d finished, she leaned over to give him a kiss on his forehead-- and then two more kisses on his cheeks until he laughed and playfully pushed her away. “Now go to sleep,” she tutted. “You need your rest.”

Steve said that he would and Sarah left his room to wash the dishes and rest for a bit herself. Her boy was a good one, that was for sure. Sarah flattered herself to think that she had something to do with what an amazing man he was turning into, but either way… She was so very proud of the person he’d become already.


	2. Undercover Lover (Captasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My friend dragged me to this party and I saw my ex, quick make out with me AU-- sort of lol

With school just picking up again and the weather finally cooling down, Steve knew that the time for house parties had really begun. Summer was great and everything, but Tony always threw one huge party to start off the school year and that fateful weekend had finally come. Despite his reluctance, Steve had been a regular attendee since their freshman year and he wasn’t going to stop now that they were seniors-- mostly because Tony would hunt him down on Monday to find out why he hadn’t come. It was just easier to let it happen, get over there, have a beer, and pretend he appreciated all the loud music and close dancing.

And so, he showed up beside Bucky as usual and found a nice spot in Tony’s lavish living room where he could sit and nurse his beer while Bucky flirted with whatever pretty girl he happened to spot first. His latest interest had been a new exchange student, Wanda, but there were no assurances she would even show up. As it was, Steve wasn’t entirely looking forward to sitting around and waiting for Bucky to either get lucky or strike out and pull him out of there; both options were equally troublesome in their own way.

For the time being, he watched as Bucky wandered off and turned his attention to Thor, who literally had a gaggle of girls around him as he told another one of his amazing stories and purposely flexed for their amusement. He was certainly very charming and he always had been; Steve easily fell into listening to his stories and hey, admiring his physique from a distance because he was only human.

“So there we were, alone and without any method of contacting anyone, in the middle of the Swedish wilderness---”

It was crazy what two brothers could get up to while they were traveling, huh? Steve hadn’t been able to leave the country just yet, so listening to Thor’s wild stories about his traveling with Loki were particularly interesting to him. Before long, he’d finished his beer and set his cup aside to just listen, idly watching as the girls fawned over Thor and giggled over whatever little jokes he was telling them. He was soaking up every bit of the attention coming his way, that was for damn sure, and Steve found it endlessly amusing.

He was just starting to smile as one of the girls really sidled up to Thor and squeezed his bicep when a body landed right in his lap. Steve very nearly pushed her off in shock.

 

“Hey, do me a favor and work with me here.”

 

Steve had enough time to register that the girl on top of him was familiar. She had red hair and green eyes- and then she was kissing him. And she wasn’t  _ just _ kissing him; no, she had her arms around his neck and her lips on his and she was really, really getting it. Steve barely had time to think about it before he was kissing her back as much as he could under those circumstances, even accepting her hand in his hair and putting his own hand on her thigh so she didn’t fall off onto the floor.

When she pulled away, he watched in a daze as she glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment before ducking down and kissing up the side of his neck. Her lips reached his ear and Steve gasped a little bit as she bit down on his earlobe.

“My ex is over there,” she murmured hotly. “Just go with it.”

Steve didn’t have much choice in the matter, but he would have chosen to go with it anyway. The girl’s lips were warm and soft and when she slid her fingers through his hair again, he shivered and pulled her a little closer. Sue him, alright? He’d only kissed one other girl before her and she tasted like cranberries and vodka; if she was going to just kiss him, then goddamnit he was going to enjoy it.

There was a whistle that actually pulled them away from one another. “Yeah! Get it, Rogers!”

The girl on his lap rolled her eyes and twisted her fingers into the front of his shirt. “Rogers,” she repeated, slightly out of breath. “From the football team, right?”

“Steve,” he said. “Yeah.”

“Natasha,” she said smoothly. “Nice to meet you.”

Steve watched as she glanced over her shoulder and spotted some other guy standing across the room. He had a beer in his hand and Steve thought he recognized him from one of his classes at some point, but who knows? He didn’t exactly keep a running tally of everyone he’d shared a classroom with… when he actually went to class. Maybe he had to keep his grades up to be on the team, but he’d cut class more often than he’d actually admit.

“Asshole.” He looked up to find Natasha shaking her head as she slid her arms around his neck again and leaned into him. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. I can’t take him ruining another party and you look like you can handle yourself if he gets out of hand.”

Raising his eyebrows, Steve cautiously put his hand back on her waist and frowned a little. “What do you mean by ‘get out of hand’?”

“Oh, he just gets kind of possessive,” she shrugged. “Which is ridiculous since I broke up with him almost six months ago.”

Steve idly wondered if he ought to be gearing up for some kind of fight over a girl he barely knew. It wouldn’t be the first time, he supposed. It would seem that he was kind of predisposed to fights whether he knew the person he was defending or not. He glanced over Natasha’s shoulder at the guy and narrowed his gaze a little bit to ward him off. Steve might not start the fight, but he’d sure as hell finish it.

“Look at you getting protective already,” Natasha quipped. “You boys are ridiculous.”

“Hey, I’m not— _ possessive _ ,” he protested. “I’m just  _ protective _ . That’s not so bad.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes the lines get blurred, but I do appreciate it for now.”

 

Clearly intent on making sure that her ex was too scared to come over and make some kind of play for her, Natasha slid her fingers through Steve’s hair and traced the line of his jaw until he was looking up at her properly. “It’s not so bad, is it?” She murmured. “You’re a good kisser.”

Steve didn’t have a chance to answer her before she kissed him again. She even sucked his lower lip between her own and drew him towards her, welcoming both of his arms around her waist because damnit, it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was really, really nice.

“You wanna get out of here?”

Wait. Steve blinked up at her and swallowed thickly. Did he want to get out of there? Yeah, kind of, but he wasn’t going to have sex with a total stranger and he knew what these parties led to more often than not… Also, he didn’t know where Bucky was and he couldn’t leave without him.

“And maybe get some hot chocolate,” she finished, giving him an amused look. “On me.”

Steve relaxed immediately. “Yeah? That sounds good, I’ve just gotta find my friend…”

Natasha smiled and relaxed enough to give him a small peck on the lips. Shit, it was almost like they were actually going out. “I’ll be right outside,” she told him. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

With that, she slipped away to presumably find her jacket and head out like she’d said. Steve was up in a heartbeat and scouring the party to find Bucky, who was dancing with some girl who looked like she might ask him to get out of there in a totally different way. Steve just made sure he’d be okay getting home on his own and explained that he had a date—sort of. They’d talk about it the next day when Bucky didn’t have his hands on anyone’s ass.

 

Grabbing his leather jacket off one of the beds, Steve made his way out the front door and turned to find Natasha- and the guy she’d been trying to avoid.

“How many times do I have to tell you that we’re done?”

The guy stepped closer. “If you’d just give me a second chance—“

“I’ve given you way too many second chances already. Besides, I’m with someone.”

“You honestly expect me to believe that Mr. American Pie over there is really with you?”

Steve could see Natasha tense immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, come on.” He took another drag from the cigarette perched between two fingers. “What would a goodie two-shoes like him be doing with a slut like you?”

Steve squared his shoulders and stepped forward, but before he could even get there Natasha did the necessary thing for him. She swung out with her right hand and landed a solid hook to the guy’s jaw. His head snapped to the side and everything, and he spit out a little blood before looking back and advancing on Natasha.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve said as he grabbed the back of the guy’s shirt. “Pick on someone your own size.”

The guy swung at him once and Steve’s punch  _ in self defense _ was enough to knock him down. He was still groaning and holding his nose when Steve took Natasha’s arm and pulled her away from there so they could leave.

 

“When you said he was the possessive type, you forgot to mention that he’s also a complete asshole,” Steve said as they quickly got themselves down Tony’s long driveway and onto the street outside. “Why’d you ever go out with a guy like him?”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Oh, because all girls just love jerks or something?”

“No, no, I just-- I don’t get it. He’s not even that good looking.”

“It wasn’t all bad in the beginning,” she sighed. “And it was nice to be with someone who’s got the same background. Russian culture and all.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense,” he mused. “But for what it’s worth, I think you can do better.”

“With someone like you?”

Steve balked immediately. “That’s not what I meant,” he protested. “Not that you’re not—I mean—“

Natasha laughed, but it wasn’t unkind. Shaking her head, she slipped her arm through his and leaned into him a little bit so they could walk together. “Take it easy, Rogers. I was only teasing.”

 

They decided to head into a nearby diner, where they sat at the counter and ordered hot chocolate and two slices of the apple pie they had on display. 

“So,” Natasha mused after a bite of her pie. “No pretty blonde girlfriend for the most popular guy in school?”

Steve ducked his head and laughed a little bit. “I think Tony’s probably the most popular guy in school,” he reasoned. “But no. No girlfriend for me.”

“Seems kind of tragic,” she commented. “All those good looks and no one to appreciate them from up close.” She took another bite of her pie and Steve watched the fork slide out from between her lips as she turned her gaze to him again. Huh. Was she flirting with him?

“Y’know, I think that sounded kind of like a compliment,” he teased lightly.

Natasha huffed out a laugh. “You’re reaching.”

Steve grinned. “No, I think you’re saying you think I’m good looking.”

“I was not. I was just saying that you’re traditionally good looking, so why don’t you have a girlfriend?” She narrowed her eyes a little bit. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ah, that’s better,” he laughed out loud. “That sounds more like you.”

“Oh, you think you know what sounds like me now?”

Steve smirked a little bit and tried to beat down the fluttering in his stomach. “Yeah, I think I do.”

 

They stayed right there at the diner for almost two hours. By the time they left, the streets were pretty quiet and a cool breeze had picked up. Steve was out past his curfew, but his mother would understand once he told her that he had to escort a friend home; yeah, he’d probably get in trouble for it, but she’d be lenient. Hopefully. Either way, a little punishment was definitely worth spending all this time with Natasha.

“So, where do you live?”

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him. “Not too far from here,” she said. “Why? Are you planning on following me home?”

Steve shook his head a little. “No, but I’d like to walk you,” he offered. “It’s late. You shouldn’t walk alone.”

Natasha looked like she was more amused than anything else and Steve thought back to the smooth way she’d swung out to punch her ex in the jaw. Obviously she was perfectly capable of defending herself, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make sure she got home safe. Sue him; he was just old fashioned like that.

“Alright, alright,” she sighed. “You can walk me home. But I’m only allowing it because you looked like a kicked puppy and I hadn’t even said no yet.”

“Hey, whatever works.” Steve smiled and fell into step beside her as Natasha led the way to her house. For a while, they walked in companionable silence and just enjoyed the cool breeze and the relative quiet around them.

Sometimes it was easy to forget in their little slice of Brooklyn that they actually lived in one of the biggest cities in the world. After all, no one who saw New York City in the movies ever really thought that there were little places with trees and empty sidewalks and neighborhoods where kids grew up just to move in as close to their parents as possible. No one ever saw this side of the city and that was partially why Steve loved it so much; it belonged to people who lived there and no one else.

Eventually, they came up to a nice house with brick steps and a little garden out front. Natasha stopped him on the sidewalk and turned to look up at him with a wry smile. “Do I get a good night kiss?” 

Steve figured she was joking, so he rolled his eyes and grinned widely as he shook his head at her. “C’mon, stop,” he laughed. “I thought those only came at the ends of dates.”

Natasha gave him a pleased look. “And who said this can’t count as a date?”

“Oh,” he said slowly. “Um, if I’d known it was a date, I would have paid.”

Natasha gave him another look. “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” she quipped. “Think of it as a thank you for putting my scumbag ex on the ground so I didn’t have to.”

Steve ducked his head a little bit and smiled. “Well, in that case… maybe you can have a kiss?”

Shaking her head at him, Natasha reached up to pull him down to her level and press their lips together. When she pulled back, Steve let out this little ‘hum’ and gave her a sloppy smile. “That was nice.”

Natasha smiled widely. “It was, wasn’t it?” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah. Can we-- Do you wanna go out again?”

Reaching up again, Natasha patted his chest and grinned as she deliberately let her hand wander over the hard muscle she found there. “Give me a call sometime, handsome. I’d be happy to.” 

Steve headed home that night like he was walking on a cloud. 

 

Hey. Look at that: he finally had a second date with someone.


	3. One Great Workout (Thundershield)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re at the fitness center at the same time and end up competing on the treadmill AU

Steve usually came to the gym to get away from it all. He was there upwards of five times a week normally, although he’d been known to go twice in one day should he have a troublesome night or something like that. The gym was a safe haven; he’d go in, work out until he was going to pass out, and head home feeling marginally better. For the most part, it was an effective way of managing his very particular issues on a semi-daily basis.

Then again, he was left alone for the most part.

Apparently that wasn’t the case this morning.

Steve had been minding his own business so far. He’d been there since the place opened at six and he’d been lifting free weights and enjoying the machines for a couple of hours now, but he decided that his cool down would be on the treadmill rather than in the yoga class he detested surrounded by a bunch of people way more flexible than he was on his best day. Apparently that had been a mistake, as he now had this  _ asshole _ running on the treadmill just one away from him who kept catching his eye and grinning like he knew he was doing a better job.

Well, fuck him.

Steve had been jogging at a relatively relaxed pace, but when the other guy gave him that look, he took it as a silent challenge and upped his speed a little bit. Now, he did also notice that the stranger was very in shape. He was bigger than Steve was by at least a couple of inches and his biceps were almost the size of Steve’s head, but that didn’t mean he had any right to issue a challenge like that- and it was a challenge! That much was confirmed when the stranger upped his speed in response and gave Steve a wide, charming smile.

 

Motherfucker.

 

He had no choice but to increase his own speed, but the stranger just did the same thing all over again. They were both  _ running _ by that point; Steve imagined the floor was shaking with their combined weight, but all he could do was work to keep up with the (magnificent, incredibly handsome, annoyingly charming) asshole beside him. That is, until the aforementioned asshole lowered his speed, smirked confidently, and stepped off the machine. Steve nearly went flying, but he countered quickly and lowered his own speed while he watched the other man walk away. Why the sudden departure? 

Nearly at the point where he wanted to give that guy a good piece of his mind, Steve grabbed his towel and abandoned his machine in favor of wandering back into the weight room nearby. Unfortunately for him, his brain practically short circuited when he noticed the same stranger sitting on a bench curling what had to be fifty pound weights in each hand. Oh, the biceps.

Steve wasn’t too proud to admit that he stared for at least a full minute before his gaze swept up and he noticed that the stranger was giving him this stupid, smug smile. His own mouth turned downwards immediately and he considered leaving, but when had Steve ever been the one to back down from a challenge like that? He sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

With that in mind, he plopped himself down on the bench facing the stranger and grabbed two weights for himself so he could—compete. Except he couldn’t really compete and he was pretty sure they both knew it. Damnit. For a while there, they were just both lifting and grunting, lifting and grunting, lifting and grunting. When the stranger finished his set, however, Steve was left trying even harder to compensate for the time he'd missed in the beginning.

By the time he’d finished and set down his weights, the handsome stranger had moved away and positioned himself on a pulldown machine, which was doing exactly nothing to make Steve any less aware that he was one hell of a specimen. Every muscle in his back rippled with each movement and Steve just stared from behind him- until he noticed that the mirrors on the wall meant he could be seen.

Apparently, subtlety had been thrown out the window along with his dignity and any attempt he could possibly make at being normal. Holding his head as high as he could despite the knowing smile on the other man’s face and the pink spreading up to the tips of his ears, Steve moved to sit at another machine nearby and deliberately avoided looking in the direction of the handsome stranger. It was practically indecent, he thought, to show up anywhere looking the way he did; if the abs and the biceps and the incredibly blue eyes weren’t enough, then the long, golden hair and that smile were what did it for sure. Steve was taken, but who was he kidding? Even if the guy was into guys, what were the chances he’d want to go out with some guy from the gym?

Laying back at the bench press, Steve planted his feet on the ground and pressed up to start his reps. Maybe it was just his paranoia, but he could have sworn he felt someone’s eyes on him and he just knew that the stranger was watching him. What a position to be stuck in while under someone’s scrutiny---!

“You’ve got a nice form.”

Steve’s eyes snapped up to meet the stranger’s and he choked on nothing but air for a solid ten seconds, very nearly dropping the bar he was lifting.

“Wha—Thank you,” he answered awkwardly. Did he mean that he had a nice body, or was he referring to the way Steve was lifting weights? Probably the latter. “Um, you too.”

“Thank you,” the stranger answered. He had a deep, rich voice and some kind of accent, though Steve couldn’t quite place it. Not British, definitely not French. Not Australian or German either. Maybe some kind of Scandinavian; it would certainly fit his appearance. “I’m Thor, by the way. It’s a pleasure.”

Steve blinked and slowly lowered the bar in his hands. Wow, what a name. “Steve,” he said as he sat up and wiped his hands so he could hold one out for a shake. “I’m Steve. Nice to meet you too.”

“I’ve just moved here,” he explained a moment later.

Steve didn’t remember asking. “Oh, yeah? Where from?”

“Sweden.” Thor took a seat on a machine nearby and well, Steve guessed they were talking now. “It’s quite different here, but I think I like it. The city is so full of life.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled breathlessly. He might have overdone it a little bit while he was trying to show off. “Well, that’s true. I’ve lived here since I was born and that’s one thing it’s definitely full of: life.”

Thor lit up- and Steve understood that people said that sometimes and it didn’t really mean that they brightened up in a physical way but in this case there was literally no other way to describe it. “It would be such a pleasure to see the city in a more intimate way,” he said eagerly. God, his smile was like the goddamn sun.

“Best thing you can do is just get lost wandering around,” Steve puffed. “That’s the best way to see things that aren’t all tourist attractions. Well, either that or get to know someone who’s lived here.”

Thor tipped his head to the side and watched him for a moment; Steve felt like he was being examined and it was kind of unsettling. There was something almost otherworldly about Thor and Steve wouldn't even attempt to explain it, but that was how it felt to him under Thor's unfaltering, brilliantly bright gaze.

“So,” he said slowly. “Do you always kind of silently challenge other people at the gym, or… is that a Swedish thing…?”

“No, I don’t always challenge people at the gym,” he laughed. “But there aren’t always people who look like you at the gym.”

Steve blinked in surprise as his cheeks slowly darkened to a ruddy pink color. Oh. Oh, so when he said that he’d love to see the city in a more intimate way, he’d already… jumped to being shown around by a local. He wanted Steve to show him around. Nice one, Rogers. Totally missed the signals.

“Um. Right, I—“ But he was so gorgeous. Steve really felt like he ought to be able to speak to the guy normally if he was going to try dating him. “Thanks,” he tried as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Probably made a pretty poor showing so far, since I thought you were challenging me or something.”

Thor laughed out loud and pulled the tie from his hair for the time being, running his fingers through the long strands as he gathered it right back up. Steve's hands nearly twitched with the desire to take over that particular burden; Thor's hair looked so silky and soft…

“Steve?”

“Wha-- Sorry,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “What were you saying?”

Thor smiled knowingly. “I was asking whether or not you’d like to come to my place for coffee once we’re finished here.”

Right. Well, Steve had technically been done half an hour ago, but he wasn’t going to admit to that. “Sure,” he answered. “Yeah, coffee would be great.”

 

 

Half an hour later, Steve’s back hit the door hard as they stumbled into Thor’s apartment together. ‘Coffee’, as it turned out, didn’t so much refer to the drink itself as it did to the act of coming to someone else’s apartment for completely casual sex. Steve wasn’t one for this kind of thing, but with Thor’s big hands on his hips and a very eager mouth attacking his own, who was he to complain? 

Getting their shirts off was a messy process, but Steve’s back eventually hit the bed and he had two-hundred-and-something pounds of muscle on top of him. That in itself was more than enough to distract him from kicking his shoes off because Steve had every intention of touching whatever he could get his hands on. At the moment, that happened to be the large expanse of Thor’s back, every inch rippling with muscle as the other man ducked down to mouth over Steve’s chest in return. One movement had Thor’s hair loose and wild, and Steve took it upon himself to slide his fingers through it and tug gently.

Chuckling in amusement, Thor lifted his head to give Steve a wide grin. “I knew you liked the hair,” he grunted. “Make sure you use it.” He winked and ducked back down to seal his lips over one nipple, successfully pulling a startled groan from deep in Steve’s chest. Thor turned out to be the kind of lover that worshiped his partner; Steve learned that very quickly despite how difficult it was to keep up with him.

His jeans were tugged down before he’d drawn a full breath and Steve pushed himself up on his elbows to watch as Thor’s mouth came down on him again, eagerly hollowing his cheeks as he pushed Steve’s legs apart and bobbed his head. “Jesus,” he swore under his breath, one hand immediately going to Thor’s head so his fingers might tangle in that hair again. As Steve bit his lip, his brow furrowed and he shivered under Thor’s thorough ministrations, which were getting more intense and determined by the second.

He couldn’t very well imagine what it would be like to come on his lips, but the sight of him lifting his mouth off, lips all red and wet and swollen, was somehow even better. Thor crawled over him a moment later and Steve kissed the slick smile off his lips as he unbuckled Thor’s belt and began to shove his jeans off him. It was all very fast. Even as Thor leaned over to grab lube from the bedside table, Steve’s vision faded to this rosy haze he could hardly account for let alone clear himself of. It had been so long and now? Now he was blessed with this  _ god _ on top of him; apparently his life was on the upswing.

Their hips fit together like it was meant to be and Thor’s smooth movements against him pulled this unrecognized,  _ wanton _ sound from Steve’s lips. His hands flew up to Thor’s broad shoulders and his fingernails dug in just enough to earn a groan in return; there was something so open and so completely enthusiastic about it. Steve couldn’t imagine that many people were this unapologetic about enjoying themselves as even dragging his nails over Thor’s biceps elicited a deep groan and teeth biting into his shoulder, but he was just so glad that Thor was one of those few.

The scrape of Thor’s beard against his neck and the swipe of hot lips against his jaw were more than enough to distract him as he was prepared, though Steve found himself wriggling down onto Thor’s fingers without any effort to preserve his dignity. It had been too long for dignity, alright? It had been way too long for anything but the kind of uninhibited, unabashed longing that was making his head swim. Three fingers in, he was  _ whining _ in a way he’d forever deny and arching his back in an effort to get even more than that because he was certain that Thor’s cock left nothing to be desired.

“Eager, are we?”

Thor’s voice came out like a low rumble against Steve’s neck and he shivered a little as he looked up at him. “Y-Y’think?” He stammered. “You plannin’ on torturin’ me forever, or what?”

Thor raised his eyebrows and surged down to catch Steve’s lips again as he  _ finally _ pulled his fingers out and blindly grabbed for the lube and a condom. There was some fumbling on both their parts and the sound of their heavy breathing was more palpable than anything else as Steve flipped over and let Thor pull his hips up. He tensed up a little as Thor began pressing into him, but when he was able to get the head in and continue on, Steve let out a little moan of encouragement. Thor was not a small man, but maybe this was just what he needed; a really good fuck.

So when Thor’s hips met his ass and Steve felt like the breath was completely knocked out of him, he decided to give himself over to it. He gripped the sheets and planted his knees on the bed as he readied himself for what turned out to be a very rigorous round. Thor’s hands fit to either side of his waist, Steve bit down on his lower lip as the other man slowly withdrew, and let out a loud shout as he slammed back in. From there, it was like there was no stopping him; Thor was rough and thorough, each thrust succeeding in filling Steve to the brim and forcing his back into a severe arch as he wordlessly asked for more. The way Thor relentlessly slammed into him was one thing, but the sensation of those  _ hands _ sliding up over his chest as Thor curved his back to lean forward and then back down as he straightened up was even more than Steve could have imagined. He felt so  _ small _ in comparison.

At some point, Thor pulled out and grabbed Steve’s shoulder to turn him around again. He thought they’d be switching to a little missionary, but Thor fell onto his back and Steve couldn’t move fast enough to get on top of him, quickly sinking right back down onto his cock and groaning quietly at the slight ache that came with it. Steve welcomed Thor’s hands on his thighs and began to rock his hips, his cheeks flushing as his lips fell apart and he worked to make this good for both of them. The slick sound of their flesh joining together only spurred him on, and soon enough Steve’s hands found Thor’s chest as a means of leverage to rock his hips just that much harder.

His own erection, which had waned just a little bit as Thor first breached him, was hard again and the friction as it rubbed up against Thor’s abs as he moved was almost too much to take. Steve ached to touch himself, but he forced himself to wait. It would be so much better if he waited. As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait all that long for things to be taken up several notches. Thor switched their positions like Steve weighed nothing at all and pinned him on his back while he renewed a series of harsh thrusts. All of a sudden, the angle was  _ perfect _ and Steve slid his fingers into Thor’s hair at last, gripping hard as he yanked the other man down for a bruising kiss that swallowed their moans.

But when Thor’s big, rough hand wrapped around his weeping cock, Steve just about lost it. He moaned loudly and opened his eyes to meet Thor’s as they continued to move together, and it was without a doubt the most erotic moment Steve could remember right now. Strictly speaking, it was the only thing he could think about at all; it was like his whole head was foggy.

“Fuck,  _ yes _ ,” he panted, trying desperately to get more stimulation even though his pupils were already blown and it already felt like he was oversensitive in the best possible way.

Thor smirked and leaned down to suck a small bruise into the skin of Steve’s neck. His beard was rough and it made Steve shiver a little bit, although he wasn’t quite sure how he could possibly be any more aroused than he was already. And yet.

“I want to watch you come apart,” Thor rumbled into his ear. 

Steve let out another moan and tightened his hands in Thor’s hair. Yeah, he’d come apart. He didn’t think he’d be able to  _ stop _ himself from coming apart. Thor’s voice was like warm leather and his hips still hadn’t faltered and Steve fell apart with a shuddering moan, coming hard on his stomach while he gasped Thor’s name and blabbered on about how good it was until he could relax, nearly going boneless as Thor smirked over him. His arms fell to the mattress on either side of him and he shivered as Thor pulled out, disposed of the condom God only knows where, and began stroking himself.

Steve watched openly and licked his lips because he hadn’t gotten the chance to get his mouth around that beautiful cock in Thor’s hand, but the sight of Thor finally letting go was enough to solidify his desire to do this a second time. He looked  _ godlike _ in that moment; his mouth went slack and he let out this deep groan as his hair fell into his eyes and he released in long, white strands on Steve’s stomach as well. When he was drained, he landed with a huff on his back and their breathing slowly returned to something resembling normal.

 

 

“I’ve gotta tell you,” Steve mumbled. “That’s not what I was expecting when I got to the gym this morning.” He shook his head a little bit. “Usually it’s a lot less exciting.” 

Thor’s laugh was nothing but a deep rumble. “Likewise,” he answered. “Usually it’s just working out, a quick shower, and a good meal afterwards.”

All of a sudden, Steve was struck by how badly he wanted to stick around. Maybe Thor wasn’t the long term partner kind of deal, but he’d had fun and why  _ couldn’t _ they just spend a little more time together after sex? “We could still have that good meal,” he suggested somewhat timidly. Fuck, he wasn’t good at this. He’d never been good at this. “If you wanted to order in.”

If Thor gave him some lame excuse, then Steve would get the picture and get himself out of there. Casual sex wasn’t supposed to go any further, right? Not that he’d ever been in this particular situation before, but Steve assumed that was the case.

To his relief, Thor rolled onto his side and smiled widely. “Chinese?”

And so, with their combined weight in Chinese food sitting on the table in Thor’s kitchen, Steve got to know the beautiful Swedish guy in front of him and learned that he was so much more than just a pretty face, a perfect body, and a thick cock. They would keep in contact for months after that and their easy friendship never hindered falling into bed together whenever the mood struck them. It was quite possibly the most sane and stable relationship Steve had ever been in and he worried that something like finding a real partner would mess it up, but it didn’t.

As it turned out, Thor fell in with another guy he met at the library at some point and Steve fell head over heels for a woman he met while he was out running. When Steve wanted to propose, Thor helped him find the ring and agreed to be his best man-- and Steve happily helped Thor arrange a birthday surprise for his boyfriend that involved fireworks and tickets to Sweden to meet his parents. And to think, all of this came from Thor trying to be an asshole at the gym.


	4. First Date Fucking (Thorki)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Person A meeting Person B on a blind date and the two not hitting it off romantically, but sexually, and going back to A’s apartment for explosive sex.

“I really don’t understand why I have to do this.”

Loki considered his reflection for the thousandth time and quickly traded in his black tie for a green one; it better suited him to have a little color here and there or he very closely resembled a ghost. He didn’t want to go on the date at all, but if he was going anyway, he was going to look good.

“Because your sad Saturday nights are getting to me in a bad way.” Ever the helpful best (possibly only) friend, Darcy had taken it upon herself to set Loki up on a blind date because she wanted the whole world to pair up and his dedication to his job wasn’t exactly making things easy for her. Loki just didn’t date often and she wasn’t having it anymore. “So get your shit together because if I hear that you made one of the nicest guys ever cry or something, I’m definitely not talking to you for at least a week.”

Loki huffed a little bit as he fixed his tie and readjusted his waistcoat. “Like you could go that long.”

“Don’t underestimate my pettiness,” Darcy retorted from where she was draped across his bed.

Fixing his tie again, Loki pushed a hand through his hair to make it as neat as possible and grabbed his jacket to complete the look, even buttoning it at the waist to make sure he was presentable. “There,” he announced. “How’s that? Good enough for one of the nicest guys ever?”

Darcy sat up and gave him a once over before indicating that he ought to spin around for her. Loki did so begrudgingly and she nodded once. “Perfect,” she said. “Your ass looks great.”

“My ass always looks great,” he shrugged. “I suppose I’m ready.”

They left his apartment together and Darcy told him to ‘get some’ before wandering off towards the train while Loki hailed a cab for himself. He did trust Darcy’s judgement as far as whatever this guy looked like; she had good taste in men, but that didn’t mean he wanted to deal with a boring dinner and boring conversation no matter how pretty he happened to be.

 

Unfortunately, Loki had miscalculated. He made his way into the restaurant and the hostess led him to a table to meet Thor, who was so far beyond ‘good looking’ that Loki’s brain very nearly came to a complete stop. As Thor stood up to greet him, Loki got a good look at how tall he was and how broad his shoulders were, but he also noticed how his biceps jumped when they shook hands, how shiny Thor’s hair was all tied back in a ponytail…. God, he had the brightest eyes Loki had ever seen.

The black shirt and red jacket he wore did nothing to hide the body underneath. Honestly, Loki only realized how long it had been since he’d last had sex when Thor smiled at him, not that his knees were wobbling or anything. That would be silly.

“You must be Loki. I’m Thor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Even his voice was sexy. Loki desperately tried to recall where Darcy said she’d met him, but he could only assume she’d found him at some kind of strip show, or maybe a gym… No, that was silly. What would Darcy be doing in a gym?

“No, the pleasure’s all mine,” he answered smoothly, taking his seat at the table so he could comfortably gaze upon Thor for the time being. Please let him be interesting, that was all Loki was asking for now. “I can’t imagine how Darcy roped you into this nonsense,” he laughed softly.

Thor’s brow creased a little bit. “Actually, I asked her if she knew anyone she might set me up with.”

Oh. Uh oh.

“Oh, well, then it’s hardly nonsense to you.” Loki inwardly cringed and when the waiter appeared a moment later to take their drink orders, wine was ordered for the table instead before Loki could even open his mouth. Well, that was presumptuous, wasn’t it? Thor shouldn’t just take control like that.

They pondered their menus in silence for some time until the waiter returned with the wine and asked to take their orders. Thor gestured for him to go first and Loki asked for the risotto to start, then salmon for his entrée. Handing the menu over, he neatly folded his hands in his lap and watched as Thor ordered soup and steak for his meal. That would have been fine, but he also asked that the steak come cooked only medium rare and when the waiter left, his elbows landed on the table.

“So,” he mused, snapping Loki out of his mild disgust. “Darcy tells me you’re a lawyer.”

Loki blinked. “Yes. Criminal law. I’m one of the top defense attorneys in the state.”

“So you represent the criminals,” he reiterated. “Why would you want to do that?”

This wasn’t going to be a comfortable conversation. “To begin with, the people I represent have usually yet to be determined to be guilty. Guilt is something that is unfortunately not always synonymous with the charge, nor with a jury or judge’s decision.”

Thor didn’t look like he was particularly impressed. “But some of your clients are guilty,” he reasoned. “How can you defend someone who’s committed a crime?”

Yes, Loki had heard it all before. He must be a terrible person to defend people who have committed violent acts or criminals who are repeat offenders… “Whether you like it or not, defendants are legally entitled to the same rights as everyone else,” he explained. “So if a cop or a detective gets lazy with his investigation, then I have every right to question whether or not my client is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”

Thor stared at him.

“But, with that said,” he continued, taking a sip of his wine. “Now that I’ve established myself, I have the opportunity to be selective. I won’t defend someone if I think they’re hiding something from me.” He smirked. “Most of the time.”

Apparently his joke was even more of a flop than he’d intended and Loki took another sip of his wine to fill the silence. Who did this guy think he was anyway? Loki had a respectable career and he was good at what he did for a living, so where exactly did this guy get off looking at him like he was a criminal too?

“Darcy hasn’t told me much about you,” he said. She had, but Loki hadn’t listened to all of it. “I believe she said you work in business…”

“Yes, I work under my father securing new clients for business under our company.” Well, that made sense. Loki supposed that if he were picking a representative of his company, he would want that person to be as attractive as Thor. “But I much prefer the volunteer work I’ve been doing. I find the corporate world so dull.”

Loki swallowed. What on Earth made Darcy think they were a good match for one another? “Oh, it’s not so bad,” he quipped. “I’m sure you look very handsome in a suit and tie.”

Thor smiled (finally!) and Loki figured his chances had increased a little bit. Their appetizers came and he was glad to have something to do with his hands, although he supposed he was on thin ice either way and he wasn’t even sure if Thor was worth the trouble. “What kind of volunteer work have you been doing, then? Something very physical? Lots of lifting, perhaps?”

That got a short laugh and Thor shook his head a little. “I’ve been working with children,” he explained. “Mostly physical fitness and sports, but I act as something of a counselor if they need to talk or… anything of that sort. They’re all so wonderful. It just feels awful that they can’t seem to find what they need in their own home.”

So Loki was dating a saint. “I’ve never been very good with children,” he answered with an uneasy laugh. “They’re very loud and very messy.”

“Sometimes, but we were all children once. We were all loud at one time or another,” he said. “Children need time and patience and all the affection we can possibly afford them while they’re still young.”

“Oh, I agree,” Loki answered quickly. “I’d just rather it wasn’t me who was in charge of all that.”   
Thor gave him a look like he was disappointed in the answer and Loki tensed a little bit. Honestly, was there nothing he could do to please this guy?

“What sort of movies do you like?” Thor wondered aloud. “Or music…?”

Things were getting awkward. Loki could sense it and he had a feeling Thor could as well. But it wasn’t his fault! He was trying here. Sort of. Okay, maybe he wasn’t trying very hard, but Thor was practically beneath him and Loki definitely didn’t get off on the whole moral judgement thing.

“I like all sorts of movies, but I’ve hardly time to watch them,” he explained. “Music is more likely. I like to listen to classical stuff when I’m reviewing cases, or very loud rock music when I’ve hit a wall.” Loki shrugged a little bit. “Truth be told, I’d love to get back to reading as much as I used to, but I already do so much for work. It’s hard to find the time.”

Thor nodded. “The way I see it, there’s a time and a place for work and we should make an effort to separate that from our personal lives. I’d never dream of giving up going to the gym or seeing friends for hours and hours of overtime at work. It’s just not that important.”

“Well, maybe your work isn’t, but when there are lives on the line…”

“I’m just saying that working 24/7 isn’t helping anyone. You can’t possibly be working at your best if you’re working constantly with no pleasure and no rest in sight.”

Loki set his fork down and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “I do just fine,” he answered.

Thankfully, the conversation turned to dating horror stories once their entrees were brought out. Loki laughed out loud as Thor told him all about a girl he’d dated who insisted upon saying his name over and over again, like at the end of every sentence. He had a mind to ask her if she was trying to seduce him, but he couldn’t stop laughing long enough to actually do so.

When it was Loki’s turn, he talked about this brute he’d dated who wanted to know everything he was doing at all times. Of course, that ‘relationship’ ended when he showed up in court when Loki didn’t answer his phone and made a scene in front of the judge. Thor thought it was funny, but when he asked Loki what he meant when he said that the guy was ‘suffocating’ him, things took yet another turn for the awkward.

“He just wanted too much, too soon,” Loki explained. “I’m a very busy person…”

“Well, I assume you’d make time if you actually liked him.”

Loki frowned a little. “I did like him at first,” he shrugged. “I just didn’t like that he was so overwhelming. If I say I’m not ready to call him my boyfriend, then he was supposed to respect that.”

“How long were you seeing each other?”

“Only six months! It was a ridiculous expectation as far as I’m concerned.”

Thor raised his eyebrows and paused mid-bite to stare at Loki like he was an alien. “You were with the guy for six months and wouldn’t let him call you his boyfriend?”

Loki pressed his lips together. “I wasn’t ready,” he said evenly. “If he didn’t like it, he could have just ended things and gone off on his merry way.”

“But he liked you,” Thor argued. “Obviously he liked you for some reason and he wanted to stick around, and you pushed him away. Crazy, controlling aspect aside.”

“It doesn’t matter that he liked me, I wasn’t ready. Should I just have pretended it was alright with me to spare his feelings?”

“Well, it would have been nice,” he said. “It’s just a word.”

“Just a word that means a whole lot more than a word!”

Their waiter reappeared not ten seconds later and offered them a dessert menu.

“No,” Loki said quickly. “Thank you, I think I’ve had more than enough.”

They split the bill and left without a word. As far as he was concerned, the only thing Thor had going in his favor was the fact that he was gorgeous—but that wasn’t everything.

“Well, this has been… stimulating,” he tried. “Thank you for dinner.”   


“You’re welcome.” He paused. “I suppose we’ll both be reporting back to Darcy that this isn’t going to happen again.”

“A pity, isn’t it?” Loki gave Thor a once over and smirked. “I had such high hopes for the evening.”

 

Loki wasn’t sure what happened next. One second, he was getting ready to make his excuses and head home to give Darcy a piece of his mind and the next, his back was hitting the wall behind him and there were two hot lips devouring his own. The hands on his hips and the scrape of Thor’s beard against his jaw only spurred him on; Loki couldn’t remember the last time his hands had grabbed someone’s shirt the way he was grabbing Thor’s or the last time his knuckles had ached digging into someone’s shoulders.

The thrill that shot down his spine when Thor roughly rocked their hips together only seemed to drive him forward and regardless of whether or not they got along on any romantic level, Loki could say for damn sure that they had the physical aspect locked down. Thor’s teeth nipped harshly at his lower lip and Loki groaned as his hands slid into Thor’s hair and tangled in the long strands to keep him close. Not one to give Loki exactly what he wanted exactly when he wanted it, Thor ducked down to brush his lips over Loki’s jaw and down to his neck, where he sank his teeth in again.

“Your place,” he gasped, tipping his head back against the wall. It wasn’t really a request.

As they got into the cab, Loki was pressed back against the seat and Thor’s massive hands pinned his hips down as they kissed and nipped at one another. Loki’s teeth were savage; he left marks on Thor’s neck and throat, and he tugged the collar of his shirt down to suck another bruise onto his collarbone. In the meantime, Thor’s thick fingers were digging matching bruises into Loki’s thighs and he could only imagine what that meant for later on. Now that they were going at it, Thor seemed impossibly bigger than he had before. Loki figured that could only mean good things.

 

By the time they got back out of the cab, Thor’s belt was undone and Loki’s shirt was partly undone. By the time Thor managed to unlock his door and let them in, Loki had one hand down Thor’s pants and his lips attached to the tight muscle on the side of his neck. There was a heavy, unexpected surge of pleasure as Thor ma handled him right over his shoulder and swatted his ass as he carried him right into the bedroom and threw him down. 

“You're a step above a caveman,” he huffed indignantly, regardless of how much he found he liked the display of strength. “I mean, honestly.”

Thor grinned devilishly and pulled his shirt off completely as Loki watched him, clearly transfixed. “I think you like it,” he said confidently. “Actually, I’m quite sure you like it.” He crawled over Loki and grabbed his wrists to pin them down as he brought their lips together again, hungrily pressing his tongue into Loki’s mouth to deepen their kiss.

Okay, so he liked it. A lot. Loki squirmed in Thor’s hold just to test his strength, but ultimately just managed to turn himself on a little more and swing up to wrap his legs around the other man’s waist. Thor’s weight was welcome on top of him; Loki wasn’t denying that he had a little bit of a size thing going on, but it felt like Thor was dwarfing him in every possible way and he loved it far more than he’d ever have imagined.

As Thor moved away to suck a bruise onto his neck and shove his pants down, Loki took advantage of the distraction to free his hands and slide them right into Thor’s hair. It was exactly as silky as it looked, but Loki tugged hard enough to earn a grunt and a sharp bite to his chest in retaliation. If that was how it was going to be, he thought they’d get along marvelously as long as they were naked and going at it; attempting any kind of civilized relationship just wasn’t worth the trouble.

But nothing could have prepared Loki for the strangled moan he let out the very second Thor’s hips fit against his own with nothing else between them. Thor obviously ran hot and his skin was on fire with each roll of their hips, each time their cocks rubbed together in the most delicious way. Planting his feet on the bed, he tried to find enough leverage to really grind his hips up for more, seeking out completion already even though he knew that there were better things to come. To his utter horror, Thor stopped them with two massive hands on his hips and Loki whined in protest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so very aroused, his cock throbbing pitifully against his belly as he tried to press his hips up to no avail.

“What are you, some kind of sadist?”

Thor grinned. “Of course not,” he answered. “I just like the idea that I’m tearing down that fancy little façade you’ve got going.”

It would seem Thor had very particular interests. With his hands still holding Loki’s hips down, he leaned all the way down and took Loki’s cock right into his mouth, swallowing him down with little regard for anything even resembling decency or shame. Loki shouted out loud and grabbed onto the headboard above him for a little piece of reality he could hold onto while his head spun and he bit down on his lower lip. Thor’s mouth was so hot that he very nearly sobbed when it was lifted off him.

“I hate you,” he spat out angrily. “Why’d you stop?”

Thor chuckled as he leaned over Loki for a moment. “You’ve got some mouth on you,” he observed, lifting his hand to drag the pad of his thumb over Loki’s now swollen lower lip.

Loki grinned mischievously. “You have no idea,” he countered, pushing Thor away until he could get him onto his back and settle between his legs, ass in the air or emphasis if nothing else.

Thor’s cock jutted out from a nest of short, blonde curls that Loki immediately pressed into as he began mouthing over the thick side, idly tracing the veins so clearly defined along the length of it. When he pulled back, he licked his lips rather obscenely and quickly ducked back down to seal his lips over the head. The moan that came from deep in Thor’s chest was more satisfying than Loki would ever admit, as was the big hand tangling in his hair and pushing his head down further. He wasn’t gentle about it; Loki eventually gagged a little bit and he had tears in his eyes when he was finally able to pull his mouth off.

 

It was when he tipped his head back and panted up at Thor that the other man seemed to really snap. Loki was hoisted up and Thor quickly moved behind him to hopefully prepare him for what came next. Loki was ready for it. Loki was more than ready for it—but he was not ready for Thor’s mouth to come down on him. He wasn’t ready for Thor’s beard scraping along the sensitive skin of his ass and he pretty much fell to pieces right there. Crying out, he gripped the sheets beneath him and tried to spread his legs a little wider for more of what Thor was so generously giving him.

By the time Thor leaned over to grab lube and a condom from his drawer, Loki was practically drooling with his cheek pressed into the mattress and his legs wobbling. He could hardly comprehend the idea of ‘more’, let alone think about all of this reaching some kind of mind-blowing conclusion. And yet.

Thor’s hand came down on his ass and Loki yelped in surprise. “What was that for?” He asked indignantly. “Haven't you teased enough?”

“It’s never enough,” Thor shrugged. “And your ass is just begging to be slapped, I can hardly be blamed.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were delaying things on purpose,” he taunted. “Are you having trouble finding your way? Is your cock flagging a little bit?” He smirked. “Are you just so eager to keep me in your company as long as possible?”

Thor huffed a little and pressed forward, idly rocking his hips so his thick cock was pointedly dragging over Loki’s hole. “Does that feel flagging to you?” He wondered aloud. “No?”

Loki groaned a little as Thor pulled away and began to prep him; surely that would make the stretch a little more manageable, but based on the size of Thor’s dick… Well, he’d be sore in the most wonderful way of all. He anticipated feeling incredibly satisfied the next morning, thank you very much. “You’re a terrible tease,” he mumbled into the pillow he dragged closer to him.

“It’ll be worth it in the end,” Thor answered as he withdrew his fingers and leaned away for a moment.

Oh, he hoped so. Loki truly hoped that this would be worth the awkward dinner and the teasing because if it wasn’t, what exactly was he supposed to do with himself? He couldn’t take unsatisfying sex on top of everything else, alright? He just wasn’t that strong.

All worry flew right out of his head as the head of Thor’s cock pressed against him. Loki tensed immediately and appreciated Thor’s hands brushing over his sides to calm him, but appreciated even more the fact that Thor didn’t stop. He pressed forward and Loki groaned as he was finally breached and stretched beyond anything he could remember, certainly beyond anything he could remember right now. By the time Thor bottomed out, his head was spinning and he whimpered into the pillow as he slowly adjusted to the size.

 

“Are you alright?” Thor’s voice sounded strained and affectionate all at once and Loki couldn’t think of anything better to do than throw that right back in his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting soft on me now,” he taunted. “Just fuck me like you said you would.”

Thor growled above him and the gentle hands on his sides slid down to squeeze his hips instead. That was it; that was exactly what Loki wanted from all of this. He wanted to feel Thor completely lose control. Was it dangerous to put himself in that position when he was with a complete stranger? Maybe, but Loki was way too far gone to really care.

The slide was almost too much to take at first, but Thor’s hard thrust into him was just hard enough to make Loki shiver from head to toe. He tried to brace himself for the next one and fell spectacularly short, which meant that all he could do was hold onto his pillow and bite down hard as Thor built up an impressive rhythm behind him. If that weren’t enough, Thor managed to cup his hands around the perfect spot on Loki’s waist and drag him into each and every thrust like they were fucking for survival instead of just because they needed to get something good out of the shitty blind date they’d been on. It was perfect.

And then it got better because Thor was hoisting him up onto his knees and Loki had no choice but to drop his pillow as he scrambled for purchase and tried to arch his back as his ass settled neatly into Thor’s lap. Craning his neck, Loki let his head fall back and accepted two eager lips dragging over his shoulder and up the curve of his neck as Thor continued to pound into him, jerking him forward each time.  
  
With one large hand on his chest and the other holding his hip, Loki allowed himself to relinquish control and give himself over to the endless barrage of stimulation coming from Thor’s efforts. Honestly, it was the best he’d had in a long time—it was quite possibly the best he’d ever had, but he wasn’t yet comfortable making that determination. Just when he thought he might have gotten comfortable in that position, Thor’s hand slid up to just barely grip the base of his throat and Loki let out a wanton moan that seemed to last forever.

 

“ _ Uhn—Yeah— _ “

 

Thor panted against his neck and Loki could feel the way he smiled when he realized that Loki was enjoying himself perhaps even more than either of them expected. It all came to a spectacular finish when Thor’s rough hand wrapped around Loki’s throbbing length and exactly three pulls later, Loki came with a short, strangled cry as he spilled at last. It felt like his whole body was trembling and the fact Thor was still buried deep inside him wasn’t doing anything to help him come down.

Falling forward, Loki wasn’t even conscious enough to appreciate the way Thor held his hips and continued his thrusts without pause, but he absolutely shivered every time Thor managed to brush over his prostate and groaned weakly into the pillow when the grip on his hips tightened. It felt like an age before Thor groaned and his hips stuttered for a few moments before going still. Loki welcomed a now familiar weight on top of him for a short while and shivered again as the cold hit his back when Thor rolled away.

When Loki eventually moved, it was sluggish and sloppy; he basically rolled onto his side and propped his head up to look at Thor. “I think I’d count tonight as a success,” he mused. “Wouldn’t you?”

Thor huffed out a laugh and pushed his hair back. “Not exactly what I was expecting, but I can’t disagree with you.”

“You’re still an ass,” Loki informed him. “I just want to be clear about that.”

“Well, you’re still rude and presumptuous.” Thor shrugged a little.

They considered each other for a long moment after that.

“So.” Thor licked his lips and sat up a little bit, leaning back on his elbows. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

 

Loki wasn’t. They met up the next day for a movie and argued for twenty minutes over which movie they ought to see before Thor shoved Loki against a wall for a kiss and they decided that a bed was the best place to be. Eventually dates turned into nights spent at each other’s apartment and nights turned into the two of them being referred to as a couple. They both denied it as vehemently as they felt was necessary, but ultimately went home together anyway. Soon enough, they learned to eat together without having sex and before very long, being together was an assumption they made almost every night. Even when Loki had terribly long hours and tons to do, he’d come home to find Thor lounging about in his living room or already sleeping in his bed.

Sometimes… crawling into bed and letting Thor pull him into his arms was the best part of Loki’s day, but he tried not to focus on that; he just wanted to make sure that he enjoyed what he had while he had it.

They fought on a semi-regular basis. Some fights were worse than others and they’d ‘broken up’ at least thirty times over the span of two years, but they’d also managed to get three very important words out in the midst of all that. Thor came over one afternoon and just stayed there, wordlessly making himself at home in Loki’s apartment. It had never been so utterly warm before.

It was three years into their relationship when Loki woke up to find Thor singing in the kitchen. He did that sort of thing very often; the man was up and making breakfast before Loki stirred on most weekends, but he’d learned to basically keep it down after a huge blowout fight wherein Loki threw a book at him and reminded him that it was  _ his _ apartment they were living in, goddamnit. With that said, Loki had also relented and accepted the fact that Thor was one of the dreaded ‘morning people’.

 

But on this particular morning, something kind of snapped inside him as he watched his big, stupid boyfriend shake his hips to some awful pop song on the radio. Loki could hardly believe it had been so long and yet there they were, happy as ever. It defied logic. It defied everything inside him that said they couldn’t possibly work together. Thor bothered him to no end! He was too honest and too easily fooled, and Loki hated how unbelievably optimistic he was all the time. On the other hand, Thor hated Loki’s sarcasm when it became too much and he hated the long hours he worked…

“We should get married.”

Thor turned and stared as Loki wordlessly grabbed his mug and poured himself some coffee to start the morning off right. He understood it was a shocking question, but it really shouldn't be; they'd been together for quite a while now. Why not make it official?

“Did you bump your head this morning or something?”

Loki turned to give Thor a short glare. “No,” he answered slowly. “I just thought it’d be nice.”

“You thought it would be nice,” Thor repeated. “To just propose to me. At breakfast.”

Shrugging a little, Loki glanced up at him over the rim of his mug. “Is that a no?”

Thor raised his eyebrows for a moment, then glared and pointed at Loki. “What the fuck are you up to?” He asked—or accused, really. “Is this a trick?”

Loki rolled his eyes and set his mug down so he could wrap both hands around it for warmth. “No, it’s not a trick,” he said easily. “Honestly, do you think I’d do that just for a laugh?”

“I mean…” Thor glanced to the side as he considered it until Loki casually threw a tissue box at him and he had to focus to catch it. “Okay, maybe not,” he admitted. “But where did this come from? I thought you said marriage was just a piece of paper.”

“It  _ is _ just a piece of paper,” he argued. “But it’s a piece of paper I want.”

Thor pressed his lips together. “You’re serious.”

Loki sighed and abandoned his mug in favor of standing up and sliding his hands over Thor’s shoulders. “Yes, I’m serious,” he said plainly. “If you want it, say yes. If you don’t, say no.” He paused. “But I have to warn you that saying no definitely results in no sex for quite some time.”

It wouldn’t result in a break up because Loki was happy right where he was, thank you very much, but he would be terribly embarrassed at the same time. As Thor’s hands took their rightful place just above the curve of his ass as usual, he smiled and leaned into the other man as he tried not to look too… hopeful? Vulnerable? Weak? Whatever.

“Of course I want it,” Thor said after what felt like ages. “I would have asked you months ago if I thought there was even the slightest chance you’d say yes.”

Loki smiled widely. “To tell you the truth, I probably wouldn’t have,” he said easily. “I didn’t know I wanted it until I walked out of the bedroom this morning and saw you.”

Thor shook his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said. “I guess we’re getting married.”

“I guess we are.”

They shared a brief kiss and Thor pulled back looking like he’d won some kind of lottery. “You know what this means, right?"

Loki hummed as he leaned into Thor’s chest and lightly tugged his hair.

“You’re going to have to meet my parents.”


	5. A Little Christmas Miracle (Captasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You keep coming into the store I work at to buy wreaths, what are you doing with all of these wreaths? AU

It was official: Natasha hated the part time job she’d picked up during the holidays to make a little extra money. She hated every aspect of it, too. It wasn’t like there were any perks other than the pittance they were paying her and she was pretty sure she was the surliest salesperson there because Christmas spirit was one thing, but the nonstop cheer was something else. She couldn’t work up to that, okay? She wasn’t structured that way and the eight bucks an hour they were paying her wasn’t inspiring her to try.

Selling Christmas trees and Christmas wreaths and Christmas plants had to be the most soulless form of capitalism during the holidays. For fuck’s sake, it was just a bunch of branches and they were making a profit off these people who wanted to buy a little representation of the holiday to stand up in their living room or hang on their door to be ‘festive’. Natasha loathed every single person who just gushed about loving the holidays or loving the smell or whatever else they went on about while she gave them change.

It didn’t exactly help that the weather had taken a turn for the frigid and the whole affair was based outside. Even though Natasha mostly stayed under a little awning, she had to remain bundled up in her jacket, hat, gloves, and scarf in order to stay warm. She looked like Rudolph most of the time and that was being kind.

It was on a Thursday night that he showed up and maybe Natasha had just dealt with one too many cheerful housewives and their husbands, but he rubbed her the wrong way.

“Did you find everything… okay?” Natasha trailed off and stared blankly at the armful of wreaths that was set down in front of her; there were nine in all and she had to wonder just what the fuck one person needed with nine wreaths at one time. Blinking in confusion, she turned her gaze up to find that the person in front of her didn’t even have the courtesy to look like he was off balance. No, he was hot. He was so hot she figured he might be able to warm her up for a while even despite how cold it was outside.

“Yeah, I did. Thanks.” The stranger gave her a warm, closed lipped smile and Natasha only soured a little more. As if she needed to be reminded that she’d be spending the holidays as a third wheel at her best friend’s house. Asshole.

With that, she started to punch in the price of the wreaths and times that by nine so she could get him out of there as fast as possible. The man handed her cash and Natasha counted it quickly so she could hand him his change- and set about getting his wreaths packed up. As she was grabbing the obnoxiously festive ribbons that would tie them together to be carried in groups of three, the man stepped forward and reached out to hold them for her. Well. How sweet.

“Hey,” he said at some point, earning a brief glance as Natasha painstakingly tied the second bunch of wreaths together. “How long are you guys gonna be here?”

Natasha sighed. Was he planning on coming back? “We’re here until New Years,” she told him. “But we have limited hours on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.” She wouldn’t be working those two nights; as a part time worker, she’d made damn sure they knew that she wasn’t going to spend her whole holiday standing out in the cold to serve last minute shoppers.

“Okay, great. Thank you.”

 

It wasn’t exactly an interaction to write home about, but Natasha appreciated the opportunity to at least look at someone aesthetically pleasing for a short while. It was nice. It was almost like she was being given a little gift for all her suffering and hey, when he bent down to scoop up one of the wreaths when it fell off the counter, Natasha got an even bigger, rounder, firmer treat than before.

When he left at last, Natasha kind of assumed that she’d never see him again. New York was a big city and they were only two people; besides, he was probably running in different circles than a college student with an attitude problem. She might have sighed as she watched him go, but all that was put aside when the next nasty customer made their way up to pay.

Three days later, he was back. Natasha was enjoying the slow part of the evening with a magazine and her feet propped up on the counter when someone cleared their throat and she looked up to find the same handsome stranger smiling down at her.

“You look comfy.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes a little bit and let her legs fall with a thump. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you could go through the tree prices with me. I can’t seem to find anyone else.” He looked so innocent right now, but he was also asking Natasha to do something and therefore, he was the enemy.

She blatantly glanced to the side, where several sales people were milling about looking bored. “Fine,” she mumbled, pushing herself up and directing him to follow her to the lines of trees nearby. As she outlined the various prices (plus delivery, without delivery, plus lights, without lights, etc.), Natasha wondered why he’d come to her… and flattered herself to think that he was flirting? Was he going to ask her out? Would he try to find out more about her? Was he just really bad at the whole flirting thing?

 

“So what’s your name?”

Natasha nearly smirked to herself. So he  _ was _ trying to flirt.

“Natasha,” she said. “What’s yours?”

“Steve.” His smile was way too charming. Natasha gave him an unimpressed look as she slipped her hands into her pockets and huffed in indignation.

“Well, Steve,” she quipped. “See anything you like?”

If it hadn’t been cold enough to flush their skin already, she could have sworn that he was blushing a little bit. It was alarming in the best possible way because what guy—what guy who looked like that actually blushed at such an innocent little tease? Honestly, the thought was equal parts paralyzing and fascinating, although Natasha tended towards disbelief. This could all be a carefully crafted plot to lull her into a false sense of security or something. Sometimes there was just no way to tell whether or not someone was being genuine; Natasha ought to know, since she was one of the best liars she knew.

“I think I’m gonna take that one,” he said as he indicated a big tree off to the side. “With lights.”

Natasha rang him up and had one of the guys prepare the tree for him. Steve paid in cash this time and tucked his receipt into the pocket of his jeans as he gave her a grateful smile.

“Hey, mister! Where’s your car?”

Steve turned and gave the other man a look. “Oh, I don’t have one,” he answered. “Just prop it up for a sec and I’ll take it from there, thanks!”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “You’re going to carry the tree?”

“Well, I mean… it’s only a few blocks. And it’s not  _ that _ heavy.”

Maybe it wasn’t heavy for him, considering he had the build of a city-dwelling lumberjack, but the tree was definitely heavy generally speaking. “Hey, it’s your life. And your back.”

Steve smiled again. Natasha kind of frowned in return and crossed her arms over her chest like it would stop her from being attracted to him. “I’ll be fine, but thanks for the concern. See you.”

 

With that, she watched him wander off, hoist the top part of the tree over his shoulder, and leave like it was totally normal for a guy to drag a tree that big down the block all by himself. Honestly, the things guys did to see masculine would always fascinate and disgust Natasha in equal measure. Most of the week passed without incident save for a nasty old man who yelled at Natasha when she informed him at the counter that they didn’t accept personal checks.

Honestly, she didn’t  _ know _ why there wasn’t a sign and she didn’t particularly care either.

On that Friday, Steve showed up again. It was snowing and Natasha had officially reached her peak as far as being patient with customers and coworkers alike. She couldn’t wait for the whole damn season to be over and done with, although the extra money was a welcome bonus for all her hard work. She was able to buy presents for everyone and she spoiled herself with Chinese food from the good takeout place instead of the one with the lowest prices.

“You’re back,” she said evenly, already ringing up the pile of wreaths he’d laid on her counter. “I’m surprised you can still walk considering the size of that tree you bought last time.”

Steve huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Promise, I’ve had worse.”

What did that even mean? Why was this guy so determined to get on her last nerve. More important than anything else, what the ever loving fuck was he doing with all these wreaths? A quick tally told Natasha that he’d bought  _ eighteen _ wreaths already and that was just when she was on duty! For all she knew, he’d been back on other days and bought even more. Why? Why would someone possibly need almost twenty Christmas wreaths?

Natasha gave him a funny look and went about taking his credit card for the wreaths. As he signed, she allowed herself to admit that yes, he really was very handsome. And strong. And nice. And probably not particularly interested in curling up with a stranger to make it through the holidays. Once the receipt was tucked away again, she began tying up the wreaths with ribbon as usual and he helped, just like he had the last time.

“So, do you always work with… plants, or do you do something else too?”

What kind of question-- “I’m a student,” she explained. “At Juilliard. Usually I babysit, but I needed some extra money.”

Steve looked impressed, but most people were impressed when she mentioned where she went to school. “Wow, so what are you studying? Music?”

“Dance,” she said easily. “Mostly ballet.”

“That’s amazing.” He huffed out a short laugh and smiled. “I could never. I’ve got two left feet.”

Natasha finished tying off the last couple of wreaths and looked up at him. “What a shame,” she quipped. “You've got a nice set of shoulders to hold onto.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah? I can’t say I’ve ever heard that before.”

“Maybe you haven’t been talking to the right people.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Natasha briefly wondered if he had someone waiting for him at home. Maybe there was some psycho he was living with who happened to want eighteen wreaths and a giant tree in their home. She couldn’t actively imagine living in a place with quite so much pine, but maybe that was just her.

 

The next week was Christmas Eve and Natasha had unfortunately agreed to work a portion of the late shift because they promised her double her pay to cover. It was her last day anyway, so she figured she might as well get something out of it. Apparently money spoke volumes because Natasha sighed and agreed to the whole thing without even thinking about how awful people were going to be at the last minute; it wasn’t as though they were the most pleasant people on Earth on a normal basis.

On top of the cold weather and the steady stream of last minute shoppers, it started to snow just before sundown and while she supposed it looked pretty idyllic, the whole environment just soured Natasha’s mood a little more. It wasn’t that she didn’t love spending time with Clint and his family, but sometimes when she let her guard down enough to admit it, she wanted someone for herself. She wanted someone to get her something special and host Christmas at their place. Sue her, it was a nice thought.

Close to the end of her shift, Natasha looked up from her phone to find Steve looking down at her again, an armful of wreaths laid on the counter in front of her. He was wearing a hat and she figured he was probably real warm under the jacket he had on; she could probably fit right under it and snuggle into his chest for the night. But seriously. Seriously, did he need ten more wreaths?

“Nice night, isn’t it?”

Was it? Was it really?

“I guess,” she answered. “If you like that whole… winter wonderland type thing.”

Steve looked at her like he was trying to think of something else to say. She held back a comment about not thinking too hard; he was too pretty to worry himself.

“I actually kind of love when it’s like this,” he mused. “When you get away from all the lights and the people, it’s just… peaceful.” Steve looked up towards the sky and Natasha frowned a little.

Where was he going to get away from the lights and the people? The middle of Central Park?

“You’re not wrong,” she said slowly. “I just wish it didn’t turn to slush right away.”

Steve smiled a little. “Hey, you’ve got somewhere to go tonight, don’t you?”

Natasha hadn’t prepared for that question. She stalled for a minute there as she finished up charging his card and slid the receipt onto the counter so he could sign. No, she didn’t really have anywhere to be until the next day, at which point she would head over to Clint and Laura’s house for presents and Christmas dinner, as usual. Tonight? She had ramen and a chick flick with her name on it.

“I’ve got a home, if that’s what you mean,” she quipped. “Didn’t realize I looked that lost.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry, I just—“ He searched her face for a second and Natasha didn’t know what he found there, but he backed down a few moments later. “Nevermind. Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

Natasha licked her lips and offered a very small smile as she tied up his wreaths and handed them over as usual. She supposed this would really be the last time she saw him; the season was ending and she wouldn’t be working here anymore. In fact—she glanced at her watch and huffed out a short laugh. Steve would be her last customer. All she had to do now was get the hell out of there.

“Merry Christmas,” he offered as he hoisted the wreaths onto his arm again.

Natasha was hit by this wave of sorrow that made her want to stop at a bar on the way home and have a few drinks. If nothing else, they’d warm her up a little bit.

“Yeah,” she said. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

 

But wait. Wait, what was stopping her from finding out exactly where he was going with all those wreaths, huh? What was standing in her way other than normal human behavior and self-control?

Nothing! Ha! Natasha dashed off to tell the boss she was leaving and followed Steve onto the sidewalk so she could tail him; she just hoped he wasn’t going too far because the further they went, the more awkward it would be for her to get caught.

The tricky parts were made much easier thanks to the crowds of last minute shoppers on nearly every inch of the sidewalk. Honestly, it was almost too easy to lose herself in the slew of people heading in that general direction; Natasha was small and short and with her hair tucked under her hood, it was even easier to blend in. In contrast, Steve remained tall and broad and considering he had a bunch of wreaths on his arms, he was easy enough to keep track of.

Following him onto the train was a little tricky, but she managed it and arranged herself in the same car with a few large businessmen crowded around her. Steve got off ages later, all the way in Brooklyn, and Natasha darted off as well so she could keep following him. It was definitely more challenging there, since the streets were pretty empty and Natasha was sure he could hear every time her boot hit the ground. She wasn’t proud to admit that she darted into alcoves and alleyways here and there, but she’d come this far and she really wanted to know what he was up to. It was going to be incredibly disappointing if he just… went home or something.

Thankfully, all her hard work paid off when she saw Steve turn left, cross the street, and head into…

 

Holy Cross Cemetery.

Wait. Natasha frowned and followed as closely as she dared, eventually hiding behind the thick stump of a large oak tree as Steve set wreaths down on a few graves. He wasn’t staying long at each one, but she watched as he did the sign of the cross at each one and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Merry Christmas’. Did he know all these people? What the hell had happened in his life that he had so many graves to visit?

When he moved away from that particular area, he had only two wreaths left.

Lacking many options, Natasha crouched down behind a bush and peered around the side to watch as Steve reverently laid a wreath beside a small grave and squatted down as he did the sign of the cross again. This time, he remained right there and bowed his head as he started to speak. In the silence of the graveyard around them, Natasha couldn’t quite make out the words until she got a little closer—

Of course, she felt monumentally guilty as soon as she realized what was happening.

“--- It’s snowing, if you can believe it. I was sure we were gonna go the whole winter without it, but it came right on time.” He let out a sigh that she could see in the movement of his shoulders. “I miss you, though. It’s not the same, celebrating without you guys…”

Natasha dared to creep a little closer and peer through the darkness to see if she could read the name on the stone. ‘S’ something. S—

“I know what you’d be saying too,” he mumbled. “Get out there, Stevie. Find another family, be happy…” He shook his head. “It’s not as easy as it sounds, Ma. It’s really not.”

Natasha immediately sobered a little and considered getting the hell out of there. He was visiting his mother’s grave and she was stalking him. This was definitely past the point of being a normal person. It was awful of her- and on Christmas Eve! But then, just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. Steve got up and moved to another portion of the cemetery under her watchful gaze. Natasha was too deep in it now; she didn’t even bother trying to convince herself not to follow him once he moved again because she was curious and lonely and she wanted to know.

But when Steve carefully laid his last wreath at a grave that looked impeccably new, Natasha tensed. The years were too close together for this to be another parent; it had to be someone Steve’s age.

“Hey, Buck.” She watched as Steve crouched down again and reached out to touch the top of the stone. “Figured I ought to come clean and tell you that I never asked her out. That girl I told you about last time. Couldn’t do it, y’know? Didn’t feel like I had any right.”

Natasha frowned and finally turned her eyes away. She had no right to be following him, but she had. She’d followed a complete stranger out of… what? Some kind of sick desire to be near someone on a night like this one? It was getting late and very cold; she should be home with a bowl of noodles right now.

“You probably would have asked the first time you saw her. I mean, I know I’m prone to exaggerating, but she’s---“ He sighed again. “She’s fucking gorgeous. I can’t stop thinking about her. And hey, I’d feel pretty weird saying all this out loud right now if she wasn’t standing a couple of feet away listening to me.”

 

Wait, what?

 

Natasha’s heart sped up and she carefully peered around the tree she’d been hiding behind, only to find Steve standing up and giving her an amused look. “So, do you always follow strangers home, or…?”

Should she run? Try to explain herself? Cry? What exactly was the right reaction to being discovered while following a complete stranger down the street, into another part of the city, and into a cemetery?

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so you weren’t following me?”

Natasha pressed her lips together. “Maybe I was just visiting someone here.”

“Wow, lying on top of stalking,” he quipped. “You’re the full package, aren’t you?”

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work. “I just wanted to know what you were doing with all those wreaths,” she muttered. “Do you know all these people?”

Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I was in the army,” he explained. “You know a lot of people that way, and then you lose a lot of people.”

He looked sad. Natasha kind of wanted to wrap her arms around him, but she was pretty sure that would mean some kind of harassment charge coming her way. “I’m sorry,” she offered instead. “That must have been really hard for you.” It was a textbook answer that didn’t even sound sincere coming out of Natasha’s mouth. She had about a thousand more questions she wanted to ask and no polite way of actually doing so. “Wait, how long have you known I was following you?”

Steve perked up a little and gave her a lopsided grin. “Since back on the train,” he admitted. “I was even going to say hi, but you ducked behind some guy and I figured you didn’t want to talk to me. And then… well, it was pretty obvious after that.”

Apparently Natasha hadn’t been as quiet as she’d hoped. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she sighed.

“Well, the least you can do to make it up to me is have dinner with me. If you’re not actually some kind of… ax murderer, of course.” 

“If I  _ were _ an ax murderer, I probably wouldn’t tell you…”

Steve nodded slowly. “Fair enough,” he answered. “But I don’t see an axe and I’m pretty sure you would have killed me by now, so…”

Natasha gave him a look. “Where would we be going to get this dinner? Everything’s closed or closing.”

“My place?” Steve looked more sheepish than anything else so while Natasha wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea of going to a perfect stranger’s apartment late at night when no one knew where she was, she also knew that she’d done exactly that on several occasions before.

Still, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a look. “Are you planning on cooking for me?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, I’ve already got all the stuff,” he reasoned. “It’s Christmas Eve. We have fish on Christmas Eve.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Who does?”

“We do,” he said. “Catholics. And I’ve never really cooked it for myself before, but…”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence. There was no way that Steve could have baited her into following him like she had and honestly? He seemed more lonesome than anything else.

 

“Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll come and have dinner with you, but this better not end with you wearing my skin or something.”

“I thought you were the suspicious figure,” he countered. “Or was I following you and I don’t remember it?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes a little bit. “Alright, fair point in your favor,” she admitted. “Let’s go.”

They left the cemetery together and Natasha found that she kept throwing glances beside her as they walked. Steve seemed pleased with himself; she didn’t know if that was because she’d been caught red-handed or because he’d actually managed to ask her out, but it was kind of a good look for him.

“So tell me something,” she said as they rounded a corner. “Why didn’t you just ask me out if you wanted to? It’s not like people haven’t met in stranger ways.”

Steve shrugged a little. “Honestly? I don’t date much. Feels like I’m faking it or something, when I give it a shot.”

Natasha frowned. “Why? It’s just two people getting to know each other.”

“I wish I could explain it, but that’s all I’ve got. It’s kind of like… I spend too much time questioning the decision and I wind up messing things up for the other person.”

Huh. Well, Steve seemed like he was worth some trouble, at least. Natasha stepped up to him and slipped her arm into his so they could walk together. “Then let’s not think about anything getting messed up,” she reasoned. “We’re just two perfect strangers having dinner together on Christmas Eve. No pressure here.”

As they walked, they talked about themselves in the normal ways; Natasha talked about her dancing and Steve confessed to being something of an artist in his spare time. The conversation was easy and wholly comfortable, which managed to please and surprise both of them in equal measure. It was just so… normal, like it was obvious that they should have been talking like this since the first moment they laid eyes on each other.

When they arrived at Steve’s apartment, Natasha insisted upon helping him out in the kitchen as they prepared shrimp for frying and macaroni for boiling. It was intimate in the best way possible in that they got to fool around and flirt and get to know each other as they got their dinner ready and it was  _ effortless _ .

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen  _ Psycho _ ,” Steve laughed as he took poured wine for the two of them and sat down. “It’s the best Hitchcock movie there is! How can you have not seen it?”

“I’m just not that big of a movie buff.” Natasha laughed at the look on his face as she plated up a serving of macaroni and topped it with shrimp pan fried in breadcrumbs. “But I’d be happy to give it a chance, if you’ve got it lying around.”

“I do! I do have it lying around. We’re watching it after dinner.”

“Oh?” She gave him an amused look. “Do I have a choice?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“You don’t make the rules in your own house,” she tutted. “You’re such an ass.”

 

As it turned out, the macaroni was just a little overdone and the breading was kind of falling off the shrimp, but the wine and the company were both satisfying enough to make up for it. With their leftovers packed away, the pair retired to the living room and Natasha pulled her feet up beneath her on the sofa. There was still careful space between them; Steve sat at one end of the couch once he’d popped  _ Psycho _ in and Natasha sat on the other, wine still in hand.

But it was Christmas. She could blame the wine and the season for inching closer and eventually seating herself right beside Steve as the movie progressed. She could also blame the silly season for setting her empty glass down on the coffee table and lifting Steve’s arm to take her place right beside him, her head resting on his chest. Maybe they were strangers, but they could lean on one another tonight, couldn’t they? They could pretend that this was entirely normal, at least for tonight, because they didn’t have anyone else.

By the time the movie ended, Natasha had both arms around Steve’s middle and he’d kind of slouched down so she could rest her head right over his heart. The movie was a damn good one, she’d freely admit that, but she wasn’t terribly scared or anything. As the credits rolled, she lifted her head up and rested her chin on his chest instead so she could look up at him.

“Good movie,” she remarked. “Fucked up, but good.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, that’s about right,” he laughed. “Thanks for actually watching it with me.”

Natasha shrugged and shifted on top of him a little bit. “My pleasure.”

When Steve leaned down to kiss her, Natasha didn’t protest. She lifted her head up a little more and closed her eyes when their lips met so she could really appreciate the little dose of affection coming her way. Of course, when they parted and Steve’s cheeks were flushed she just had to smile.

“How long have you wanted to do that?”

Steve raised his eyebrows and gave her the most innocent look he could muster. “What can I say? You’ve got really kissable lips.”

“You’re a dork.”

Steve laughed and let the hand on her back wander down until it was resting just over the band of her jeans. “Stay the night?”

Now, Natasha wasn’t sure what they’d be getting up to during the night, but she was more than willing to be patient and find out. At this point, even sleeping all cuddled up to his perfect chest would be an improvement upon the lonely noodle scenario. Actually… that would be an improvement upon many other scenarios as well because Steve really did have a nice chest.

“Depends,” she answered. “Does this place offer breakfast in the morning?”

“As a matter of fact, it does.” Steve smiled widely. “Tomorrow’s menu offers pancakes and bacon, and good, strong coffee.”

Natasha hummed and leaned up for another kiss. “How could I possibly refuse all that?”

It was all kinds of calm as they got up and Steve turned off the lights on their way into the bedroom. He pulled out a tshirt and a pair of soft, drawstring pajama pants that would hopefully at least sort of stay up on her hips, but Natasha only accepted the shirt. “This is enough,” she said casually. “I have this strange feeling you’ll keep me warm through the night.”

Steve smiled bashfully, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he pointed her back towards the bathroom so she could get changed in private and Natasha, who was forever eager to push the boundaries of polite interactions, pulled her shirt off right there. She gave him a cheeky little shrug as she turned her back to remove her bra and finally pulled on the shirt he’d given her before peeling her jeans off for the night. When she turned back, Steve was shirtless and oh, the muscles on his back looked even better than she’d imagined.

“Now this is what I call hospitality,” she commented as she slipped under the covers. “Dinner, a movie, and a show.”

Steve turned around to face her while he pulled a white tshirt on and Natasha let her gaze wander down without bothering to feel bad about it. He was putting it out there, so she was going to look. Even with the shirt on, he looked like something very close to the perfect description of a man; that waist of his was tantalizingly small and the curve of his ass was just plump enough for her to imagine biting into it.

When he crawled into bed beside her, Natasha took one moment to think about the fact that not too long ago, Steve had been a complete stranger she was ready to never see again. It was funny how life worked out sometimes, she supposed. Maybe this was supposed to be some kind of Christmas miracle.

“I’m warning you right now, my toes are cold.”

Natasha sidled right up to Steve and let her cheek rest on his chest while she slipped her toes under his calf. He shivered a little, but only pulled her closer to make sure they were both nice and warm. Just as she’d suspected, Steve was like her own personal heater and she settled in almost immediately with no thoughts of actually fucking him on her mind.

Okay, maybe there were some thoughts, but she could save them for the next morning.

“Hey.”

Natasha opened her eyes and looked up to Steve with her eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“It’s midnight,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

What an unbelievable dork. Natasha leaned up to give him a quick kiss and smiled. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

 

She fell asleep that night not alone and all curled up in her bed, but practically drooling onto Steve’s chest with his arms warm and secure around her. The next morning, she woke up and immediately burrowed even deeper into his chest, tightening the arm around his waist and doing absolutely all she possibly could to stay warm a little longer. It was cold out there, she could tell.

But when she tipped her head back to press her nose into the crook of his neck, a devilish little idea occurred to her. Natasha turned around and pulled Steve’s arm a little tighter around her waist, successfully guiding him onto his side so he was spooning her. Smirking to herself, she arched her back and settled her ass right in his lap before wiggling back a little bit. If he was interested, and she highly suspected that he was, he’d have a really good something to start the morning off right. And if he  _ wasn’t _ interested, then they could play it off as a casual reaction.

To her utter satisfaction, however, Steve groaned softly and tightened his arm around her waist as he instinctively pulled her closer to him. There were a few gentle rocks of his hips and Natasha smiled to herself as he nosed his way into her hair and got hard enough for her to feel it before---

“ _ Oh _ my God.” Steve’s voice was rough with sleep and he stopped immediately when he realized what he was doing, but he also didn’t move away. She liked that about him; he recognized roguish behavior and didn’t seem to immediately back away from it. “I’m sorry, are you up?”

Natasha smirked to herself and leaned her head back to look up at him. “Oh, I’m up,” she said. “And so are you, I see.” She pointedly wiggled her hips back a little more and watched with some satisfaction as Steve bit down on his lower lip.

“This is embarrassing,” he groaned quietly. “It just happened—“

“As long as it did, we might as well make use of it.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned over to face him. “I said we might as well make use of it,” she repeated, making sure she was pressed up against him. “Doesn’t that sound like a good idea?”

Steve swallowed and leaned down to kiss her without another word. Obviously it did sound like a good idea to him; Natasha inwardly congratulated herself the very moment she hooked her leg over his hip and rolled their bodies together. Christmas miracle indeed.

After that, it didn’t take long for Steve to roll them over and grind his hips down against her. It was always interesting to find out what someone was like in bed versus what they were like on a daily basis; Steve had a whole other side to him that didn’t truly come out until Natasha raked her nails over his shoulders and pulled a low, rumbling growl from deep in his chest. Oh, yes. She’d be doing that again.

His shirt came off in a flurry of movement followed by the shirt Natasha had worn to bed. Her skin pebbled as the cool air came rushing in past the covers he still had thrown over them and Natasha found herself pulling him down on top of her as she shivered.

“Wait, it’s cold,” she whined lightly. “Stop for a second.”

Steve huffed a little and lowered himself down on top of her, his nose pressed into the side of her neck. “So that’s all I am to you, huh? A glorified blanket.”

“Shh, shh…” Natasha slid her hands over the muscles on his back and sighed as she settled in underneath him. “Ah, that’s better.” Aside from Steve’s erection pressing against her, this was just about perfect- and even that was pretty much a positive. “You’re so warm.”

“Yeah, yeah, I run hot.”

“You sure do.”

They laid like that for a short while until Steve shifted and Natasha had no choice but to let out a soft groan into his shoulder. It was easy to press her hips up against him and get them going again; Steve was more than willing to reinitiate the rhythm he’d had going before—with the added bonus of hot breath on her neck and her nails scraping over his scalp. There was something about hiding under the covers with him that made it even better; like it was just the two of them against the cold outside.

Her panties came off a moment later and his sweats were pushed down with all the urgency she could muster without actually pushing the covers off as well. As it was, Natasha was more than happy to grab the firm globes of his ass and pull him closer to her while he left hot kisses over her collarbone and down between her breasts. By the time he sealed his lips around one pert nipple and grazed his teeth over it, Natasha was more than ready to get this show on the proverbial road and wrapped her legs around his waist to let him know what her intentions were at the moment.

“Shit, I don’t even know if I have a condom,” he mumbled against her skin. “I didn’t exactly plan this.”

Natasha frowned. “You don’t just keep condoms?”

Steve pouted a little. “Not like I’m having a lot of sex these days,” he protested.

Well, shit. Natasha watched him for several moments after that as she considered what they should do. She was on the pill and everything, but she didn’t know him and it would be stupid to have unprotected sex with a stranger, right? But Steve seemed so clean cut and safe…

“You’re clean, right?”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Yeah! Oh my God, yes. Of course.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and nodded once. “Then get on with it.”

Steve actually groaned out loud and Natasha huffed out a laugh as he hoisted her legs up to drape them over his arms and got into position at last. It was more than a little satisfying when he finally pressed into her, filling every conceivable inch until they were joined together with absolutely nothing between them—and oh, how sweet it was. 

Steve didn’t even need any coaxing; he planted his knees on the bed and rolled his hips to pull a long, wanton moan from Natasha and built up a heavy pace that had the bed creaking and the headboard banging lightly against the wall.

Where did this even come from?

“Oh my God,” Natasha gasped at some point, the words spilling from her like she couldn’t hold them back a moment longer. “Oh my  _ God _ .”

Steve smirked—she could see it, the bastard—and began rocking his hips smoothly to keep up a nice, even rhythm that managed to reach the very deepest parts of her. Even with the blanket slipping off his shoulders a little bit, Natasha’s cheeks flushed and she threaded her fingers back into his hair to tug at the short strands for more. To her utter surprise, Natasha felt everything get very hot and grunted as she tried to rock her hips up against him. When was the last time she’d actually been able to come like this? Had she ever been able to come like this?

“Don’t stop— Don’t you stop—“

He didn’t stop. Natasha came with a broken sound and buried her face in Steve’s shoulder as he rutted into her and managed to draw her orgasm out a little more. Natasha’s nails dug into the meat of his biceps all the way through and certainly as she slipped over the line from pleased to over sensitive. Thankfully, Steve’s hips stuttered soon after and he pulled out, wordlessly thrusting against her thigh and spilling right there between them.

Breathing hard and shivering slightly, Steve let most of his weight down on Natasha again and stopped right there. As horns blew outside and the wind pressed up against the windows on the other side of the room, they both slowly came down from what was at the least an unplanned one night stand. But was it really a one night stand if Natasha wanted to see him again? And beyond that, since when did she want to see him again?

 

“I’m starving,” she groaned eventually. “You promised me pancakes.”

“You sure about that?” Steve sighed as he pulled out and rolled over all in one go. “Doesn't sound like me.”

Natasha pouted and pushed a hand through her hair. “Don't toy with me," she said. 

As it turned out, Steve made a very good pancake. He served up two big, fluffy stacks along with a side of bacon and Natasha made coffee to wash it all down. For a while, they talked about Christmas traditions and what they could remember from their childhoods, but the conversation eventually turned to the pink elephant in the room.

“So, about earlier,” Steve began. “I don’t wanna speak too soon and I’m going out on a limb here, but…” He raised his eyebrows at her and smiled widely. “It was pretty amazing, right?”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. “Typical man,” she mumbled. “Yes, Steve, it was very nice.” She reached across the table and patted his hand, all while keeping a totally straight face.

“Very nice? It was better than very nice and you know it—“ He paused. “You do know it,” he accused.

Natasha gave him a sharp grin and pulled her hand back. “Oh, I know it. But the look on your face was pretty priceless.”

Steve gave her a look. “So does that mean, since you know it was amazing, that I can ask you out without fear of you turning me down?”

“That’s not usually how things work, but why don’t you give it a shot?”

“Alright, here goes.” Steve sat up a little straighter and gave her a shy smile. “Would you do me the great honor of letting me take you out to dinner sometime?”

Natasha stared at him for a few seconds like she was actually giving his request due consideration, like it wasn’t a sure thing. “Well,” she drawled. “I suppose I could suffer through that.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Would it help if I said we could end the night in my bed again?”

Laughing out loud, Natasha took another bite of her eggs and pointed at him with her fork. “One night and you really do know me,” she commented. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”


	6. Field Research (Thorki)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve been furiously typing on your laptop in the library and have just gone to get a book, so I had a quick peek and you’re writing hardcore gay porn and it’s GOOD.

Thor hated the library. He understood that there was a lot of benefit to libraries as an institution, but being in the library, especially when he was all alone and should have been working on a paper due the very next day, was not his idea of fun. A little voice in the back of his head reminded him that if he’d just worked on the paper last weekend, he might have been able to go out with his friends instead of working on it now, but that was just a habit of his. So he wasn’t the best student in the world; being well-rounded was overrated anyway and he was a damn good athlete.

…Except that if he didn’t pass his classes, they’d kick him off the team for sure.

He had briefly considered paying someone to write the damn paper for him, but if the school (or gods forbid, his father) found out then he would be in the same pickle as he’d be if he didn’t turn it in. 

With exactly half a page done, he sat back and tipped his head back to stare up at the bland ceiling above him. If Thor was lucky, he’d only be there for a couple of hours before inspiration (or desperation) got him to actually finish the paper. If he wasn’t lucky, he was looking at an all-nighter.

While he was definitely wasting time by texting Sif for the thousandth time regardless of the fact that she’d vowed to ignore him until his paper was done, Thor by chance found something else to draw his attention for the moment. Sitting a few tables away with his back to a wall was someone he’d never seen on campus before- and what a shame! The guy had pale, defined features that might as well have belonged to some kind of runway model; his cheekbones were sharp, his lips were pink, and when his gaze left his laptop for a moment to stare into space, Thor could see the green of his eyes. Wow.

But as the stranger went back to work, Thor’s attention fell to his hands and stayed there. The guy’s fingers were long and thin, and he typed at least twice as fast as Thor if not even more efficiently than that. He didn’t even look like he was pausing between sentences, so obviously Thor wanted to know…

Well, beyond anything else, he wanted to know what this guy’s major was because if he had any idea how to help with the paper currently not being written on his own laptop, then Thor would happily go over there and flirt his way into some impromptu help. He watched in fascination as the beautiful stranger’s brow creased a little bit and his fingers paused elegantly in midair while he seemingly reread whatever he’d already written. Straightening up, he shifted long, lithe legs under the table and Thor licked his lips without even realizing it.

Seconds later, the guy was typing again and Thor raised his eyebrows as he continued to watch. What was he writing? Either he was really into his schoolwork or he wasn’t writing something that was even remotely academic… Thor found himself trying to make guesses just to fill the time. Maybe this guy was an English major; he could be writing some incredibly complex literary analysis or something. Maybe he was pre-med and working on some kind of surgical notes. Maybe he was just the kind of person who had a lot of pride in the work they handed in? Maybe he was looking at a genius who didn’t need to stop every sentence or so to make sure he was still on track and making sense.

Right in the middle of what had to be the most effortless procrastination tactic Thor had used lately, the stranger got up and stretched his arms over his head before wandering off into the stacks. Hey, so he did have to use books sometimes; fancy that. Now… he’d left his laptop right there, with the screen open and everything. Considering how empty the library was at the moment, Thor supposed the chances of someone walking by and seeing something private were slim to none. There was no reason to suspect that anyone would be interested in looking at whatever was up on the screen.

 

Thor got up before he could stop himself and glanced around for a moment before strolling in that general direction. He could be casual about this, right? Even though he was over six feet and built like a football player, he could definitely be as quiet and sneaky as the next person. Rubbing his neck, Thor wandered around for a few seconds before stepping behind the table and glancing down at the laptop. Tiny font. Shit. He’d already come that far, so he leaned down and squinted at the screen to find out exactly what his current and most recent distraction was writing about.

_ ‘…sure that he’d never felt anything more intense than the wet heat of Eric’s mouth around his cock…’ _

Raising his eyebrows immediately, Thor shifted his position to get a better look because he could not be reading what he thought he was reading. There was no way someone would be typing something like this in the library where anyone could see them if they cared to look!

_ 'His back arched as Eric hollowed his cheeks and Adam’s hand slid into his lover’s hair, curling immediately to press him back down for more…’ _

What the fuck.

Why was this guy writing gay porn in the school library? Why would he ever leave it right up on the screen when he walked away? Why was it so  _ good _ ?

Thor’s brow was still furrowed as he read on about Adam and Eric and their torrid affair; it wasn’t often that a story had him this enthralled and he couldn’t remember ever turning to literary porn when he wanted to get off, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. Unfortunately, Thor wasn’t quite as sneaky as he’d previously thought. 

Considering the fact that he’d actually taken a seat in front of the laptop and was openly reading the portion of the story on screen, it was only shocking he hadn’t been caught sooner.

 

“Enjoying yourself?”

 

Jumping nearly ten feet, Thor turned to find the handsome stranger from before standing beside him with an amused look on his face. Shit.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, pushing himself up out of the chair. “I didn’t—mean to.” Lame. Obviously he’d meant to; he’d walked all the way across the room to find out what was on that goddamn screen.

“No?” The stranger had a very smooth voice; Thor wondered what it would be like when he moaned or how it would feel to have that voice whispering naughty things in his ear. Clearly this guy had a way with words. “Because it very much looks like you meant to look. Or did you just spontaneously appear in my seat?”

Thor frowned and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Okay, so I—I looked, but I was just curious. I said I was sorry, so I’ll just be going now.” He gave the stranger a look that just dared him to push this and began making his way back to his desk and the paper he’d yet to write.

“Did you like it?”

Thor stopped and turned back. “What?”

The other man rolled his eyes. “Did you like it?” He repeated the words very slowly, as if he was speaking to a small child.

“It… Yeah,” he shrugged. “I kept reading, didn’t I?”

A small smile crept across the stranger’s face. “Do you want to read the rest?”

Thor glanced back at his laptop, which was now displaying a black screen since he’d been inactive for so long. Should he get back to work? Yes. Did he want to read the rest of the story? 

 

…Yes.

 

“You mean it?”

“I’d like to get an outside perspective,” he explained smoothly. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

Thor cautiously took his seat again and glanced up at the other man before turning his gaze back to the screen. Now, it did feel a little strange to be reading something so… so erotic while someone watched him and waited for a reaction, but he was quickly pulled into the story and focused entirely on that.

_ ‘…Each touch of Eric’s fingers set a jolt of desire down Adam’s spine unlike anything he’d ever felt before, but it was the touch of lips on his neck that pulled a deep groan from him. As he gripped Eric’s biceps, he tried to arch his back and press down for more pressure, more stimulation of the little bundle of nerves inside him, more of that hot, wanton pleasure. Soon enough, though, Eric pulled his fingers out and Adam moaned in protest as he huffed and fell back against the bed. _

_ His torment didn’t last long, as all Eric needed was a little more lubrication before he was settling between Adam’s legs and pressing into him at last. For the first few seconds, Adam felt like he was suffocating. The stretch hurt more than anything else, but he swallowed back the tears that crested in his eyes and bit down on his full lower lip as Eric kissed his cheeks and his jaw before taking his lips in a searing kiss as well. By the time their lips parted again, Eric was moving his hips and Adam forgot all about the pain in favor of focusing on the waves of pleasure coursing through him…’ _

 

When Thor came to the blinking cursor that indicated where the story stopped (for now, he presumed), he slowly sat back and nodded. That was hot. God, it had been way too long since he’d last gotten laid and now he was staring at exactly what he wanted in printed form. Who knew words on a computer screen could be this… tantalizing?

“Well?”

Thor swallowed and got up in the hopes that the half-mast he was sporting wasn’t noticeable. “It’s good,” he said lamely. “Really good. Are you a Lit major or something?”

“I’m actually majoring in Modern Languages,” he explained. “I’d like to be a translator.”

Of course he was. Thor thought back to the paper on his computer and how he couldn’t be less interested in business when it was all down to numbers and negotiating tactics and so many  _ textbooks _ . “That’s nice. I… guess this isn’t for school then, huh?”

“No, it isn’t,” he laughed. “Although it would be endlessly entertaining to watch one of my professors read it. I doubt they’d have the…  _ reaction _ you did.”

Thor inwardly cursed, but he refused to let the reality of the situation dent his confidence. Instead, he cleared his throat and offered his hand to the other man. “I’m Thor,” he said. “What’s your name?”

Arching one delicate eyebrow, the pretty stranger slipped his hand into Thor’s and smirked. “Loki,” he answered. “I’m sure it’ll be my pleasure.”

Wait, what did he mean by that? Thor shook off the weird feeling and smiled again, but he still didn’t-- quite understand. “Uh, so… how’s it turn out? I mean, are Eric and Adam just getting to know one another or have they been at this a while? Is this a one time thing, or…? Where do you get your inspiration?”

Loki raised both eyebrows this time. “Eric and Adam are just acquaintances,” he said easily. “It’s all new for them; sometimes it’s the most intense with someone who sparks a sudden surge of desire, don’t you think?” He moved to sit on the edge of the table and crossed his arms over his chest. Thor swallowed. “As for my inspiration, I’m afraid most of it just comes from a healthy imagination.”

“So, no… field research,” Thor said slowly. God, the line of Loki’s jaw was just begging to be kissed. He wondered if it was strictly appropriate to use one of the nearby rooms for something that definitely wouldn’t be quiet if he had his way.

Loki’s grin stretched a little wider. “Why, love? Are you offering?”

Thor was very much offering. Having sex with a complete stranger was  _ stupid _ and Thor really liked to think he was smarter than all that, but he did have a condom… and he was pretty sure he’d tossed lube into his bag at some point. Either way, he’d be happy with a little making out for now with the promise of more at another time.

“I’m just saying that usually  _ hands on _ research is the best way to go,” he said as he gave Loki a wide, hopefully very charming smile. “Right?”

 

He had to admit that he was surprised to be the one who was being dragged into the nearest empty ‘quiet study’ room as he’d assumed it would be the other way around. In any case, the door shut and Loki was on him in a fraction of a second, both nimble hands sliding up his chest and back down as Loki leaned into him.

“What’s the matter?” Loki murmured teasingly. “Forgotten all you want to do to me?”

As if. Thor switched their positions with a rough growl and pinned Loki back against the wall so he could lean down and seal their lips together. Every time he thought he’d gained some kind of control, some kind of dominance over the situation, Loki fought back and proved him wrong. But Thor knew there was an understanding between them from the moment Loki bit down on his lower lip and groaned openly as Thor tightened the grip on his wrists; they both liked this little power play they had going on. By the time their shirts hit the floor, Thor was more than comfortable enough to hoist Loki up with two big hands under his ass and slam him against the wall once more. Their panting quickly filled the silence around them as Thor began grinding their hips together, roughly grabbing Loki’s ass to guide him-- not that he seemed to mind.

Quite the contrary, in fact. Loki moaned so wantonly that Thor had to stop and pull his head up to give the other man an amused look. “Enjoying yourself?” He asked smugly. 

Loki scoffed a little, but he didn’t exactly pull off the arrogant look he was going for considering how swollen his lips were, or how flushed his cheeks happened to be. “Waiting impatiently for more.”

With those words, Loki squirmed out of his grip and quickly dropped to his knees in front of Thor. Apparently foreplay wasn’t something Loki was particularly concerned about, because he had Thor’s belt undone and his jeans open in a matter of seconds. As soon as those slim fingers slid onto his thighs, Thor just knew it was going to be good; call him crazy, but he had a gut feeling that he ought to brace himself. And how right he was—Loki’s mouth slid onto him like it belonged there, like all Loki wanted out of life was to get him off with his lips and tongue alone.

“F-fucking hell,” he muttered to himself, one hand shooting out to hold onto the wall for balance while his other hand tangled lightly into Loki’s inky black hair. The obscene slurping sounds only added to how filthy all of this felt, although Thor already had a mind to ask Loki out for real when it was all over; sue him, but he was something of a romantic regardless of the fact that his dick was in a stranger’s mouth right now. “You’re so good—“

Loki didn’t stop long enough to respond, but he did tilt his head back a little bit and turned wet, shining eyes up to Thor as he continued. That in itself was enough, but when the head of his cock hit the back of Loki’s throat and made him audibly gag a little bit? That was just too much. Thor groaned, and his grip in Loki’s hair tightened enough to let the other man know that he was pleased. Thor had never seen someone go at it like that; tears were leaking down the sides of Loki’s cheeks by the time he pulled off and yet he didn’t seem anything but eager as Thor hauled him to his feet and shoved him onto the nearest table.

“Is that—ah—all you’ve got?”

Thor grunted as he undid Loki’s jeans and tugged them down over his hips. They were tight enough that it wasn’t easy, but he managed it and tugged the lube out of his pocket where he’d haphazardly stuffed it on the way in.

“You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

Two fingers were already slick and prodding Loki’s entrance, but Thor also used his other hand to grab Loki’s ass and squeeze hard. Apparently he liked that, as he groaned and arched his back like he wanted more. How likely was it that Loki happened to be one kinky son of a bitch? Thor felt like he should play the lottery that day or something.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” Loki countered. “I haven’t got all day.”

Thor growled and spread Loki’s cheeks so he could spit between them and add to the lube already slicking the way. Satisfied that he’d given the guy a brief stretch and positive he wasn’t supposed to waste any more time with preparation, Thor grabbed the condom out of his back pocket and rolled it on so he could press the head of his cock against Loki’s hole.

How on Earth had they come to this? Thor could distinctly remember not wanting to come to the library at all and now he was balls deep in one of the prettiest guys he’d ever seen, a guy who was keening and holding onto the edge of the table and spreading his legs as much as he could with his jeans still around his knees—

The day had turned out much better than Thor had ever dared to imagine.

“Yeah, just like that,” Loki urged. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Thor groaned and tightened his grip on Loki’s hips as he continued to move; it wasn’t as fast or as rough as he might have liked given the way Loki had egged him on, but he got to watch the way Loki’s greedy hole stretched to accommodate him with every thrust. He got to see Loki’s pale skin flush more and more dramatically as time went on. He got to grin as the table inched forward and Loki had to push himself up onto his toes to compensate for Thor’s harsh movements.

Best of all, Thor got to pull out and turn Loki onto his back to find that he was flushed all the way down to his rosy nipples, his cock still hard and leaking against his flat belly as he kicked off his jeans and spread his legs invitingly. Sinking back into him felt so natural that Thor couldn’t bother thinking about how unbelievably reckless this decision had been. Instead, he focused on the way his thumbs fit into the sharp lines of Loki’s hips and the way Loki arched his back and how utterly erotic Loki sounded when he moaned and cried out for more. If all of that wasn’t enough, the way that Loki finally took himself in hand and spilled with a broken moan all over his stomach was  _ more _ than enough to cement his desire to do this again.

Loki’s foot pressing against his chest to push him away snapped Thor out of his realization and he pulled out thinking that Loki wanted him to finish himself off. Well, he was wrong. Loki slid back onto the floor and removed the condom in favor of taking Thor right back into his mouth. Already over sensitive and close to the edge, Thor bowed forward and grabbed the edge of the table in front of him as Loki fondled his balls and pressed a nimble finger against the sensitive spot just behind them. Loki’s lips tightened and Thor came with a half-hearted warning, one hand shooting out to hold the back of Loki’s head still.

 

When they came apart, Loki was licking his lips and Thor was panting heavily as he tried to steady his legs and come down from that truly unbelievable high. As Loki stood up and tried to hide that he was a little unsteady on his feet as well, Thor took a second to wonder whether or not he was actually going to potentially ruin such an objectively amazing moment by doing the Right Thing.

And yeah, he was.

“So, we should do this again sometime,” he breathed. Wait. “Uh, I mean, we should get together again.”

Loki arched an eyebrow at him while he tugged his jeans back on and buttoned them up. “Do you mean that we should fuck again, or…?”

Thor sighed as he tucked himself back into his pants. “I mean maybe we could actually go out, um… before the fucking,” he suggested. “For dinner? Or a movie or something?”

Frowning a little bit, Loki grabbed his shirt and pulled it on as he shook his head. Thor was readying himself for a rejection, but he watched as Loki smiled and huffed out a small laugh. “You’re a surprising person, Thor,” he said. “I really didn’t see that coming.”

Thor grinned widely and took that as a compliment; it was nice to know he wasn’t the simpleton people seemed to think he was sometimes, all because of the way he looked. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe,” Loki countered.

“I’ll take it.”

They exchanged numbers and Thor watched Loki pack up his laptop and leave with a slight hitch in his step, which managed to be just the boost he needed to get his paper done with minimal delay. If he was lucky, he’d get to see Loki again soon… and if he was even luckier, it would end with Loki on his back as well. 


	7. Steve's an Idiot and Bucky Knows It (Stucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will you stop flirting with me you just got seriously injured and I’m the EMT trying to tend to your wounds in the ambulance, I don’t give a fuck that I look cute when I’m concerned, you’re lucky you’re not dead you dipshit AU

“You’re real cute when you’re worried.”

This guy had to be fucking kidding. Bucky glanced up for a fraction of a second and made a face, but managed not to let that oh so professional facade fade. He was still working, after all. And it just so happened that his job was kind of important at this very particular moment.

“Can you squeeze my fingers?”

His current patient, Steve, smirked like he hadn’t just been in a bar fight with no less than seven burly men on the other side. He smirked like he wasn’t bleeding from his nose and mouth, like he wasn’t suffering from knife wounds and internal bleeding and a concussion. He squeezed Bucky’s fingers, but it was weaker than Bucky would have liked.

“Good. Okay, now… What’s your name?”

Steve had a pretty smile, but he was clearly a fucking psychopath.

“Steve Rogers,” he answered, turning his head to the side to spit up a little more blood. “What’s yours?”

Bucky briefly narrowed his eyes at the other man. “Bucky,” he said distractedly, checking on the bleeding from the most urgent of Steve’s several knife wounds. “What year is it?”

“Twenty seventeen.” He sighed as he looked up towards the roof of the ambulance. “It’s also December, and unfortunately Trump is president.”

Bucky paused and applied more pressure to the wound, which made Steve wince a little bit. Just how many times had this guy been hit in the head that he knew exactly what to recite in order to calm a nervous EMT? He might still have a head injury, but it was mild. Bucky was at least convinced that he’d managed to avoid any serious trauma in that area. Lucky him.

“ _ And _ ,” Steve added as he let his head fall to the side so he could look at Bucky again. “Right now, I don’t have a date for New Year’s, so if you’re at all interested…”

Bucky swore under his breath and glanced at his partner, who was smirking to herself as she helped him hoist the gurney into the waiting ambulance. “Are you aware that you’re bleeding and on the way to the hospital?” He ventured. “I mean, does this really seem like a good time?”

Steve shrugged a little. “You’re gonna bail as soon as we get there, so this is all the time we’ve got.”

He grinned again; Bucky wanted to tell him he had a stupid face, but he refused to comment on it while the guy’s teeth were still stained with blood and the side of his face was still swelling. “You don’t even know me,” he said while he seated himself in the back and signaled for the doors to be shut. “How many EMTs have you asked out?”

“So far, you’re the first,” Steve said. “And let me tell you, I’ve met more than my share of EMTs. You’re definitely the hottest one who’s ever scraped me off the pavement.”

Despite himself, Bucky’s cheeks heated up a little bit. Honestly.

“And what if I don’t make it a habit of dating guys who get into bar fights?”

“Ah, come on,” he laughed. “I’m loveable. And I got in some good hits.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. Considering it had been seven on one, Steve was right. Three of the other guys had been carted away in other ambulances with pretty severe injuries, included a busted nose, at least two broken ribs, and a couple of missing teeth. But Bucky didn’t want to condone that kind of needless violence, so he didn’t say anything that might lead Steve to think he was impressed or something.

“But you started the fight,” he reasoned as he checked the thick padding on Steve’s wounds. “That’s what they were saying; that you opened your mouth or something.”

He wasn’t a cop and he wasn’t interrogating Steve or anything, but… okay, he was kind of curious because Steve was  _ very _ pretty and Bucky hadn’t been out with anyone in a while.

“You’re damn right I opened my mouth,” he said without a trace of regret. “They deserved worse than what they got. Only reason they didn’t get it was because there were too many of them.”

Bucky shook his head a little bit. “And what was so bad about them that you just had to speak up?”

Steve pouted and his brows drew together. “They were giving some girl a hard time,” he admitted. “If I didn’t speak up, someone else would have. It was only a matter of time.”

This big, stupid guy had taken on  _ seven _ half drunk men because they’d made some off color comments? Bucky pressed his lips together. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “You’re a fucking dipshit, you’re lucky you’re not dead.”

Steve actually laughed at that, then groaned a little bit as pain shot through him from the wounds on his torso. “Maybe I’m real lucky, because I got to meet you?”

Bucky blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

They hit a bump in the street and Steve was jostled just enough to make him groan a little more, one hand covering the deep wound on his side. Bucky gingerly moved his hand away and applied more pressure himself, but he didn’t say anything just yet. It was just… that he kind of wanted to say yes and go out with this guy, stupid as he might have been.

“So, what d’you say? You gonna deny a wounded man his one wish?”

Bucky pressed his lips together and gave Steve an unimpressed look. “A date with me isn’t gonna stitch you up right,” he mumbled.

 

Before he had to actually give an answer, they arrived at the hospital and there was a flurry of work to do. Steve was out of the ambulance and being wheeled into the emergency room amidst the doctors who would take care of him as Bucky quickly gave them a summary of what they were dealing with; multiple stab wounds, mild concussion, facial swelling, possible broken ribs. As usual, the gurney was taken from him and he was left to fill out paperwork and… well, leave.

All of a sudden, he regretted not giving Steve an answer.

 

Unfortunately, he had a shift to finish. 

 

The last few hours of that shift went by rather quickly, but Bucky found himself thinking about Steve over and over and over again. He just seemed so sincere and it  _ was _ kind of sweet in a stupid knight in shining armor kind of way that he’d stood up for that woman regardless of the threat posed to him. Bucky supposed that it put him above a lot of the losers he’d dated in the past. And hey, who was he to not give a wounded guy his chance?

And so, at three in the morning when his shift finally came to an end, Bucky hopped onto a train and went back to Mt. Sinai to see Steve. Obviously they didn’t just give anyone who asked the information of a patient, but he had friends there and he was well known. A nurse helped him out and within a few minutes, he was stepping quietly into a shared room and smiling as soon as he laid eyes on Steve, who was sleeping away. Mild concussion, seven stab wounds, severe facial swelling, and two broken ribs. Idiot.

Bucky should have been getting home, but something compelled him to land in the chair beside Steve’s bed and threw his feet up on the edge of the bed itself. Maybe… he’d just take a little nap right here. Just for a few minutes.

…

….

…..

 

“So he’s your boyfriend?”

“Well, not yet. But soon.”

“Is that so? He’s very handsome.”

“He is, yeah. Practically saved my life, you know.”

“Oh, then he’s definitely a keeper.”

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open and he frowned a little as two faces came into view: one belonged to a still tired Steve and the other to the middle-aged nurse he’d been talking to. He straightened up right away and pushed a hand through his hair while he tried to figure out what to say.

“You talkin’ about me?” Smooth, Barnes.

Steve let a lazy grin spread over his face and glanced at the nurse again. “See? Look at those eyes; isn’t he beautiful?”

The nurse giggled a little bit and Bucky frowned at Steve. “Soon to be boyfriend?” He quipped. “With lines like that? You’d better try a little harder.”

“Ah, but there’s a chance,” Steve pointed out as smugly as he could. “I knew it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as the nurse said she’d give them some time to talk and pushed himself up a little so they could do just that- although he really didn’t know what there was to talk about. Except, of course, the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Steve in the few hours since they’d first met and definitely wanted to go out with him as long as the date didn’t involve any other bar fights.

“So, you look like shit.”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Bucky gave Steve a look. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“Well, they haven’t given me a mirror, so I assume I’m my usual glowing self.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I bet you have,” he countered. “Reckless, pig headed, fucking stupid—“

Steve nodded along. “All of the above,” he laughed. “Plus stubborn, opinionated, and a troublemaker.”

Bucky pressed his lips together and shook his head, but the whole thing was really very charming. It was nice to see a guy who was able to laugh at himself and although Bucky didn’t approve of the fighting, he supposed that Steve had done it for a good reason, at least.

“So, not that I don’t love having your beautiful face watching over me, I’m kind of waiting at the edge of my metaphorical seat to find out what you’re doing here.”

Right. Bucky supposed it was pretty weird to find a total stranger at your bedside, but he still hadn’t quite decided what he should say; apparently making the effort to be there wasn’t enough to make his intentions known.

“I figured I ought to come make sure you haven’t picked a fight with any of the nurses,” he quipped. “You can’t really blame me, considering the state you’re in.”

Steve smirked. “So you’re here because you wanna make sure I’m okay? Aww, how sweet.”

“Shut up, it’s not like that.”

“Funny, because it definitely sounds like that.”

“Maybe I wanted to make sure the nurses were okay.”

“You wound me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Maybe I’m here because I wanted to see if you were serious about that date.”

Steve smiled like he already knew that and Bucky found himself wanting to kiss that smirk right off his goddamn face, the asshole.

“Yeah, I was serious,” he said warmly. “I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

“So… would this be before or after your stitches come out?”

Steve laughed again and one hand went to his side, where he no doubt felt the aforementioned stitches pulling at the sudden movement. “Preferably before. How does a movie and dinner sound to you?”

“It sounds a lot more interesting if I’m going with you,” he admitted. “I’m off on Saturday.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Bucky was a little happier than he wanted to admit that Steve was actually serious about all of this; it would have been horrifying if he’d said that he was just fucking with him, or that it was the concussion talking. That would be a brand new low on Bucky’s end.

Standing up, Bucky rummaged through Steve’s belongings where they were sitting neatly in a drawer at his bedside and pulled out his phone. “I’ll be expecting a text from you,” he said as he punched in his information and slid the phone into Steve’s hand (hospital policy be damned). “Don’t disappoint me.”

Steve smiled as he watched Bucky grab his jacket and head for the door. “I won’t.”

 

He didn’t. As it turned out, dating a complete stranger who happened to be the physical embodiment of a Greek god with the kind of temperament that made him both frustrating and impossibly easy to love was the best decision Bucky had made in a long time. Their first date was spent discovering their shared love of movies (action/adventure was Steve’s all time favorite, and science fiction was Bucky’s), followed by a debate over whether or not Star Wars was the Best Movie Ever. 

That debate somehow developed into Bucky leaning right into Steve’s face to keep insisting that he was fucking wrong and of course Star Wars won out over literally everything else, but everything got kind of quiet somewhere in the midst of all that and Steve’s lips found Bucky’s two seconds after he whispered another quiet protest. Sex was a little difficult that night given that Steve was still healing from his fight, but they managed. Steve split a couple of stitches, Bucky laughed at him, and they eventually spent the next two hours at an Urgent Care around the corner so he could get patched up again.

On New Year’s Eve, Bucky accompanied an overly excited Steve to Times Square, where he was kissed on live television as the ball dropped. For once, his life felt very much like a romantic comedy or something; Bucky half expected people to start singing around them. Thankfully, there was no singing. Instead, they headed home and cuddled up together in Steve’s bed, where he fell asleep with his head on Steve’s chest and an optimistic feeling about the year ahead of them. 


	8. I Need You Now (Captasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I still have your phone number memorized even though I haven’t called you since we split and somehow I remembered it even though I’ve had like six shots of bourbon and hey, I know you’re pissed that you’re here at this dingy club at 3 in the morning to pick my drunk ass up, but you have to admit that’s pretty impressive” AU

It was two thirty seven in the fucking morning and Steve’s phone was ringing. He supposed it was partially his fault for not turning the damn thing off, but come on. Who the hell was calling him at this hour? Rolling over, he blindly reached for it and swiped his finger to accept the call as he put it to his ear. His eyes remained closed, his cheek on the pillow.

“Hello?”

“Steve? Steve! Hi!”

Steve frowned and blearily glanced at the screen for a second. “Who is this?”

There was a weird sound on the other end of the line, like someone was covering the phone to shout something at someone else. He frowned and rolled onto his back, covering his face with one hand in an effort to stay as relaxed as possible.

“You don’ remember me, Steve?” Whoever it was had definitely had too much to drink. Her voice was slurred and Steve figured that even if he did know her, it was going to be hard to tell-- “You used t’like when I called you late at night,” she continued, her voice getting a little lower.

Oh. Shit.

“Nat? What the hell is this?”

Natasha laughed a little too much and he heard her moving around on the other end. “You  _ do _ remember me!” She cheered. “Where are you? Come an’ get me.”

Steve removed the hand from his face. “Come at get you?” He repeated in shock. “Are you kidding me? We’re not together anymore, Nat, can’t you call someone else?”

“Hey, I-- I remembered your number,” she hiccuped. “An’ I’ve had way too much t’remember your number. I had like-- like six shots of bourbon.”

Fucking hell, what had he done to deserve this? Hm? What was it  _ exactly _ that he’d done in a previous life to deserve his drunk ex calling him at three in the morning for a pick up from some bar God only knows where?

“You gotta come get me cuz… cuz they’re gonna close soon.” Natasha hiccuped a little bit again and Steve sighed. “ _ Pleeeeeeease _ ?”

“Fine,” he muttered. “Where are you?”

 

Honestly, Steve was torn about seeing Natasha again. It had been ages since they’d ended things and while he’d missed her, he’d also worked really hard to get over her. Then again, he’d also wondered if getting over her was even possible considering she might be the fucking love of his life. This was either going to be a nice way to get some closure… or the biggest mistake he’d made recently.

Twenty minutes later, he was making his way into a shitty club and glancing around in the hopes that he might spot Natasha without looking too hard. When he didn't see her on the dance floor and couldn’t find her near the bathrooms, he wandered up to the small crowd still gathered around the bar. There she was: the one that got away.

Reminding himself now that being nostalgic wasn’t going to get him anywhere, Steve straightened his shoulders and frowned as he watched Natasha tap the bar, down a shot of tequila, and suck on a lime-- God, how much had she had already? Why hadn’t they cut her off yet?

“One more shot and the top comes off, come on!”

Um, no. Steve moved through the men gathered around her and put a hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “Time to go.”

“Steve!” Natasha was  _ plastered _ . He could see it in the way she was swaying on her stool and the fact that she was smiling really widely at him. That wasn’t her normal smile, okay? “You came!” She reached for him and missed, but Steve managed to catch her against his chest before she actually fell off her stool.

This? This was not attractive. Being this drunk was never attractive.

“Yeah, I came,” he muttered as he helped her sit up. “And it’s time to go, okay? Let’s settle your tab…” He glanced up at the bartender and gave him a look until the guy spit out how much she owed. Steve handed over his card to pay for it amidst the complaints from the guys around him, who were probably only slightly less drunk than Natasha was at the moment.

 

When it was paid, Steve hoisted Natasha up and secured his arm around her so he could get them out of there. She waved to the guys behind them as he ushered her through the club and towards the door, but it was when they got to the sidewalk that she decided she could manage, however sloppily, to get her arms around his neck and lean into him for support. 

“Mm, you should carry me,” she mumbled. “Like you u--used to.”

“Yeah, I don't think so.”

Steve wasn't there to make up and get back together. She'd hurt him enough in the past and he just didn't want to do it again. He didn't want to go through the same thing all over again. That wasn't to say that he hadn't enjoyed being with Natasha-- it was probably the best relationship he'd been in-- but he couldn't do it again. Period.

“But Steeeeeeve…” Natasha whined out loud and tried to pull him down to her level, but it was such a weak move that Steve didn’t even have to try to resist. “You’re no fun,” she accused. “How come you’re no fun anymore?”

Steve decided that he would treat himself to a really good breakfast at a decent time that morning. It didn’t matter that he was out and about at three because at seven or eight, he was going to enjoy himself to no end. He was going to have the works; pancakes, bacon, eggs, coffee, maybe even a slice of pie or something too. He was going to deserve it after all this nonsense with Natasha.

“Okay, we’ve gotta sober you up a little bit,” Steve decided. “You can’t hold onto me like this.”

“Oooh, why do I have to hold onto you? Did you miss me?”

Trick question. Steve had missed Natasha terribly, especially when they’d first broken up. He could remember how strange it had been to all of a sudden be without her. He couldn’t call her, he couldn’t text her, he couldn’t talk to her. His life just wasn’t the same without her and since he was a sentimental idiot, there were reminders of her just about everywhere. If he admitted to missing her now, the gates would open and God only knows what would happen next.

“Does that really matter right now?”

Natasha giggled into his shoulder and Steve shook his head a little bit. She was so drunk, it was incredible. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her like this before which meant that she was either dealing with something or celebrating something, except that if she’d been celebrating something she probably wouldn’t have been alone. Steve was very well aware of the fact that Natasha didn’t usually lose control of herself like this; she was usually very even keeled, so this was pretty worrying.

Hoisting her arm around his shoulders again so he could take on at least most of her weight, Steve steered Natasha down the block towards some shitty 24 hour diner and deposited her in a booth so they could get her to sober up just enough to hold onto him during the ride home. The waitress eyed them both with more annoyance than anything else, but she brought out two cups of overly strong coffee when Steve requested it and that was really all he was looking for.

“Drink,” he instructed once he’d dumped a little sugar into the coffee the way Natasha liked it.

Natasha pouted at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Steve frowned and pointed at her coffee. “Drink,” he repeated. “All of it, Nat. I mean it.”

She didn’t look very happy about the first sip she took, but the warmth and the way it settled her stomach made her take another one. Halfway through, she leveled her gaze at him over the table and a wide smile spread over her face.

“You’re still pretty,” she told him. “Maybe even prettier. Did you do something different with your hair?”

Steve blinked. “I got it cut,” he said slowly. “And stopped parting it to the side…”

“Looks good,” she murmured. “I bet it’ll look even better in the morning.”

And there it was. “Nat, we’re not doing this,” he sighed. “We can’t. Okay? We tried, it didn’t work… I’m gonna take you home and that’s it for the night. We can forget you ever called me.”

Natasha frowned a little and turned her gaze down to her coffee for a long time. She took another sip, but she didn’t look up at him again and Steve was starting to think she might be falling asleep, but…

“I miss you.”

He sighed. “Nat, you’re just saying that because you’re drunk.” 

“Nuh uh,” she said, shaking her head again. “I miss you. Why’d we break up?”

The truth? Steve couldn’t remember why he hadn’t fought harder to stay with her. It had been Natasha who made the decision, but he should have protested. He should have insisted that they try again, work it out, anything to stay together. God knows he hadn’t wanted to leave, but those last few days had been some of the hardest in his life and at the end of it, he’d felt more defeated than anything else.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

Natasha frowned and traced the rim of her cup with the tips of her fingers. “I think you know.”

“You mean because you told me to leave? Because you said it wasn’t working between us? Because I was apparently suffocating you?” He huffed out a breath and told himself to calm down; he was arguing with someone who didn’t possess all her faculties right now. It wasn’t fair. “I remember all that,” he mumbled. “I just don’t know what brought it on.”

Apparently that was enough to upset Natasha even though she was starting to sober up. “I was just scared,” she mumbled. She was getting tired; he could see it in the way her eyes were drooping.

“Scared?” Steve frowned. “Scared of what?”

Natasha shrugged and managed to look very small and innocent considering she was incredibly drunk.

“Look, I get that things ended kind of badly between us, but obviously you had a reason for it,” he said patiently. “I like to think it would have worked out otherwise, you know?”

Natasha shrugged again and looked away. She was tired and he could see that, but he felt like this conversation wasn’t entirely over and that scared him. What would she say? Would he finally find out what it was that he’d done so wrong to make her break up with him? Would she just confirm his fears and say that he was too rigid or too damaged or something like that?

They drank the rest of their coffee in silence and Steve watched as Natasha calmed to the point where she had bags under her eyes and looked like she desperately needed some sleep. He’d take her all the way home. Obviously it was tempting to put her in a cab and say goodbye, but he wasn’t that kind of person and he wanted to be sure that Natasha was safe and sound.

“You think you’re okay to hold onto me?”

Natasha nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Apparently that was all he was going to get right now. Steve and Natasha walked back to where he’d parked his bike and he handed her a helmet that she fumbled with for a moment before getting it secured and climbing on behind him. In some ways, in the back of his mind, Steve felt like it was really nice to have Natasha’s arms around him again. She’d always loved his bike and he’d always loved giving her as many rides on it as she wanted. In other words, the nostalgia was hitting him pretty hard.

The apartment Natasha had gotten after they broke up was exactly the same as Steve remembered it. As he parked and walked with her to the front door, Natasha tripped and he had to catch her; she might have sobered up a little, but she’d clearly had a lot and her coordination was off. Steve made the snap decision to walk her to her apartment door instead of just to the elevator and Natasha didn’t protest, so he figured that was okay. That is, he was going to do it for her own good, goddamnit.

Still, he let her unlock the door even though it took her a few tries to get it right and followed her in for the express purpose of making sure she got into bed and went to sleep. She wasn’t in danger or anything, but if she stumbled and hit her head or… or whatever else, she might not be awake enough to actually help herself.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Natasha didn’t protest letting him guide her into her bedroom and she didn’t protest when he asked her to sit down on the bed so he could help her get her shoes off. She didn’t even protest when he carefully unbuttoned her shirt and helped her out of it so she could sleep in the tank top she had on underneath. There was nothing he could do about her jeans, really, without undressing her, so he just popped the button so she’d be comfortable and pulled the covers up so he could help her lay down.

“There we go,” he said. “All comfortable, right? You think you’re alright on your own now?”

For a moment, Natasha refused to look at him and he thought she might have fallen asleep already. But when Steve began to straighten up, her hand shot out to grab his wrist and stop him. She missed, but that was beside the point.

“Can you stay?”

Oh, he shouldn’t. If Steve knew what was good for him, he would have refused immediately and gotten the hell out of there before this got any more painful. Even if he stayed, she was likely going to pretend it hadn’t happened in the morning and his heart would break all over again. He wasn’t the type to just fall out of love, okay? Natasha was this huge part of his life and she’d just left him on a dime.

But he loved her. He loved her even now and he wasn’t going to be able to see her peering up at him with big, slightly glassy eyes and a trembling lower lip and just say no. Fuck.

“Yeah, I can stay.”

Steve pulled his jacket off and kicked his shoes off in the corner of the room so they weren’t in the way. He briefly debated taking his jeans off as well because they’d be uncomfortable to sleep in, but… well, that would be incredibly inappropriate and he was already crossing several lines here. Instead, he pulled off his belt and set it aside with his jacket so he could lie down in bed beside her. Nah, this wasn’t awkward at all.

Natasha turned over and curled up beside him, but kept a solid five inches of space between them.

“I found the ring,” she whispered eventually. “In your sock drawer.”

Steve was silent for a long time after that. So she’d seen the ring and didn’t want to get married? Was that the whole reason she broke it off with him? Because if so, he was going to need to talk to her again when she was sober and tell her how ridiculous that decision was. He wouldn’t have forced her!

“And?”   
  


“And I was scared.”   
  


“Why?”   
  


“Because it’s you.”   
  


“What’s that supposed to mean?”   
  


 

Natasha huffed a little bit and closed her eyes as a little, frustrated line formed on her forehead. 

“It means that we had lots of fun, but I’m not wife material,” she explained. “So I thought I’d save you the trouble and end it before you got around to it.”

Steve stared at the ceiling for a few moments. “So you just… decided that I was going to end it and didn’t want to actually give me a chance to tell you that you were wrong.”

Natasha grunted a little and moved closer; Steve didn’t have it in him to stop her right now, not even a she latched onto his arm and held it close to her for warmth.

“You know, I would have told you that you were being crazy,” he said after a moment. “I wouldn’t have broken up with you, I wanted to marry you.” 

Steve could hardly believe it had been such a stupid reason. Didn’t she know him at all? Did all their time spent together mean absolutely nothing?

Steve had only purchased that ring a couple of weeks before she ended it. He’d been so excited about finding the right one and he’d been deep into thinking about how he might ask… It was an added knife to his heart when she pulled the rug out from under him to break things off because he was so ready to spend the rest of his life at her side.

“I can’t believe this,” he sighed as he rubbed his free hand over his face. “It’s like a bad dream. I didn’t know, or I would have told you to stay. I would have—done anything to make you stay. Do you know how much it hurt to have you walk away like that, with no explanation? I thought I’d fucked up. I thought I did something wrong to make you go. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

 

…

 

“Nat?”

Steve glanced down and found Natasha sleeping soundly beside him, her arms still wrapped around his and her head resting on his bicep. Sighing quietly, he lifted that arm away from her and watched with some cautious amusement as she whined and shimmied closer to wrap her arms around his waist instead. It was all very familiar, having her there with him. Steve took the opportunity to brush his fingers through her hair and lean down to get a little sniff of her shampoo—coconut, just like it had always been.

The biggest question of all was whether or not he wanted to give it another chance. God knows he loved Natasha, but she’d really hurt him. He didn’t know if he could risk getting hurt like that again; he might not survive it a second time. Then again, the fact that Natasha was talking about missing him while she was drunk didn’t mean she wanted to try again either. All he could do was wait for whatever the morning would bring and see how he felt about it then.

It took him some time, but he eventually fell asleep and the next time he opened his eyes, it was morning—and the space next to him was empty. Steve pushed himself up and ran a hand through his hair before wandering down the hall and into the kitchen. Nope. No Natasha, but he did find a pot of coffee and poured himself a cup so he could wake up properly before he hightailed it out of there.

When he wandered into the living room, he found Natasha sitting on the couch with a mug of coffee between her hands and her head hanging right above it like the steam would cure whatever hangover symptoms she was dealing with and make the day a better one.

 

“Hey,” he greeted as he sat on the arm of a big chair nearby. “How’s your head?”

Natasha groaned. “Please don’t talk so loud.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and made an effort to lower his voice even though he hadn’t been speaking loudly to begin with, thank you very much. “Sorry,” he tried again. “I guess that says it all.”

Once she’d taken another couple of sips of her coffee, Natasha sheepishly glanced up at him and sighed. “I guess you want to talk about last night,” she said. “I don’t suppose I can do anything to change your mind?”

“I doubt it,” he answered. “I-- think it’s only right we talk about it.  _ Not _ talking is what got us into this mess in the first place, apparently.”

Natasha sighed quietly and knocked back the rest of her coffee within a few moments before setting her mug down on the coffee table. Honestly? She looked weary enough that Steve debated letting her out of it, but he knew he needed to hear the truth.

“You wanna start by telling me why you were in that bar drinking alone to begin with?”

“I just needed to relax. Didn’t exactly plan on calling you; I even got rid of your number, but apparently that just wasn’t good enough.”

Steve smiled a little. “So you actually did remember my number. I thought you were full of shit when you called and told me that.”

Natasha pressed her lips together and leaned back, eventually closing her eyes again. “If I weren’t so goddamn hungover, I’d probably be embarrassed that I called you at all,” she mumbled, rubbing one hand over her face. “I feel like I said a lot of stupid things.”

“Well, you said a lot,” he mused. “Not all of it was stupid.”

“I definitely came onto you.” Natasha nodded slowly as she tried to remember more details from the night before. “Oh my God, I called you pretty.”

Steve laughed out loud. “You did,” he confirmed. “You definitely called me pretty.”

Natasha groaned a little bit and covered her face with both hands, so Steve decided to soldier on. “You also said… you were scared,” he tried. “You said you broke up with me because you found the ring.”

There were only a few ways Natasha could answer that, right? She would either confirm or deny that the stupid ring was the reason why she’d picked all those fights and run off on him. Or, he supposed, she could remain totally silent and force him to continue.

“That was the stupid part I was talking about,” he pointed out. “Why didn’t you ever just say something to me? I’m not that scary, am I?” He was trying to make light of it, but honestly… the whole thing made him feel terrible. If she didn’t even trust him enough to talk to him, what did that say about their relationship as a whole? Clearly, he must have been doing something wrong to begin with, or she would have come to him first.

Natasha huffed. “You know, you act like talking about shit that scares you is just the easiest thing in the world,” she accused. “It’s not.”

“I know that,” he protested. “But you could have tried.” Steve shifted a little bit and rubbed his hands over his thighs. “It hurt when you left. I thought I did something wrong. I mean, maybe I did. Obviously you didn’t… trust me.”

“It wasn’t about that,” she groaned as she pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. “I just didn’t want to see the look on your face when I said no. So I wanted to tell you right away that I wasn’t ready, but it wouldn’t come out and I figured you’d break up with me anyway.”

Steve blinked. “But you were wrong,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t have.”

Natasha rolled your eyes. “Don’t you up and lie to me. You want to get married and you know it.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not willing to wait, Natasha!”

“Well, what if I never wanted to get married? Huh? What then?”

“Then you’re fucking worth the sacrifice! Are you saying you don’t want to? Not ever?”

“No, I’m just--”

“What? You’re  _ what _ ?”

“I’m not sure I’d be a good wife! Are you sure you’re not settling?!”

“ _ Settling _ ?” Steve gaped at her for a moment. “Are you fucking kidding me? Nat, I’m in love with you! I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world just to be  _ dating _ you!”

 

Steve wasn’t sure what happened next. One second he was staring at Natasha and just daring her to try and deny what he was saying and the next he was on his back with two familiar lips on his own. And as his hands found the slope of Natasha’s back, his brow furrowed a little bit and he tried to speak without actually breaking their kiss.

“Does this-- mmpf-- does this mean we’re getting back together?”

Natasha huffed against his lips and pointedly straddled his hips so she could roll down against him. “Can’t we talk about that later?”

Steve shook his head a little when she broke the kiss. “You know that’s not how I do it.”

Licking her lips, Natasha looked down and lightly traced her fingertips over the lines of muscle beneath Steve’s tshirt. “If you’re fucking with me about the marriage thing, I  _ will  _ kill you,” she muttered.

Steve chuckled lightly. “I don’t doubt you for a second,” he said honestly. “But I’m not fucking with you, okay? I mean it.” He reached up to cover her hand with his own and gave her a sweet smile.

Natasha stared back at him for several moments before leaning right back down and capturing his lips again. “You are fucking me, though,” she mumbled without truly breaking contact. “Now.”

And now that Steve knew there was hope for their future, he didn’t bother holding back. In fact, he hoisted Natasha up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, where he quickly found out that time apart had done nothing to make them any less perfect for one another.


	9. Big Mouth (Captasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m at an art exhibit and I just badmouthed the art, because I don’t get it, okay? And it turns out you’re the artist. I’m so sorry, maybe I could get you coffee and you could explain what it was supposed to be? AU

“It’s not art if a three year old could replicate it with finger paint,” Natasha said. She’d been trash-talking the art at a gallery opening she’d been dragged to for the last twenty minutes now and honestly? This was way more entertaining than trying to relate to the uppity people around her.

“I mean,” she continued, snagging another glass of champagne and giving Laura an unimpressed look. “Look at this one.” Natasha indicated the canvas they were standing in front of and scoffed. It featured a bright splash of red paint on a dark background and while she supposed it was aesthetically… something… it also wasn’t on the level of what she personally considered ‘art’. Art was supposed to take skill! Who did this guy think he was that he could sell shit like that for God only knows how much?

“I could do that!” She claimed after another sip of champagne. “And I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. It’s just some paint thrown across the canvas—the guy probably tripped, swiped a brush across there, sat back, and just decided that no one would ever know the difference!”

Laura snickered a little and shook her head. “Gallery openings aren’t really about the art,” she said. “It’s about the atmosphere and pretending you can afford to buy something when you’re really here for the drinks and the networking.” She glanced over Natasha’s shoulder. “Speaking of which, there’s someone I have to introduce myself to, if you don’t mind.”

Natasha waved her off and went back to staring at the canvas like she was just horrified someone would pay so much money for something so… lame.

“Do you like this one?”

She glanced to the side to find a handsome man standing next to her. His hands were in his pockets and he was dressed neatly enough; maybe she’d get something out of this whole event after all. “It’s not exactly Monet,” she mumbled. “I don’t understand why anyone would buy it.”

He smiled a little. “Maybe they like the way it makes them feel.”

Natasha snorted and shook her head. “It makes me feel like I’m clearly making money the wrong way because I’ve made better pictures on the mirror after a hot shower.”

He had a cute laugh, she noticed. “Well, you know these artsy types,” he sighed.

“Don’t I know it,” she countered. “There’s supposed to be meaning here? It’s just a stripe of paint!”

“So why are you at a gallery opening like this if you’re not--- interested in art? Let me guess. Dragged here by your boyfriend?”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Best friend’s wife, actually,” she explained, idly indicating Laura across the room. “And she owes me at least five favors for this one.”

“That bad, huh?”

Taking another gulp of her champagne, Natasha nodded along. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty—“

“Steve! Hey, man!”

The man beside her turned and smiled as another man came to embrace him, patting his back once before pulling away. “Great show. I can’t believe you made all this stuff! What’d I tell you? I knew it was gonna work out, you just had to put yourself out there.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I guess,” he answered bashfully. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Oh, my pleasure.” His gaze snapped to Natasha, who was blinking at the exchange with an increasing level of well-hidden panic. “Where are my manners? Sam Wilson. It’s already nice to meet you---?”

“Natasha,” she said quickly, taking his hand for a shake. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Well.” Sam glanced. “I can see you two were in the middle of something, so I’ll leave you to it.” He slapped Steve hard on the shoulder and darted off to mingle, leaving Natasha to down the rest of her champagne in a hurry while she figured out how to make her apologies.

“To be clear, you’re…”

“The artist, yeah,” Steve finished. He didn’t look particularly upset or insulted, which was good.

Natasha nodded slowly. 

“Well, this is awkward.”

Steve laughed out loud and turned to give her a wide smile. “Just a little.”

“I just don’t understand,” she tried. “I don’t suppose you’d want to maybe get a cup of coffee and explain them to me…?”

“Now that’s a ballsy move,” Steve commented. “Insulting my art and then asking me out?”

Natasha shrugged. “Worth a shot, right? Not like I actually expected you to say yes.”

“Who says I’m not saying yes?” He smiled widely. “I like ballsy.”

“Or you're desperate.”

Steve laughed again and shook his head at her. “The insults just keep coming.”

Natasha watched as he glanced around and finally spotted someone across the room. “Gimme a second, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

Weird. Steve almost looked like he actually wanted to go get coffee with her, but she supposed she’d seen men do more degrading things under the arrogant and ridiculous assumption that they might get laid. He jogged off to talk to a tall, red headed woman who kept glancing in Natasha’s direction just as Laura wandered back over to Natasha- obviously to inquire about who she’d been talking to.

“Oh, that’s the artist,” Natasha explained as she snagged yet another flute of champagne. “I think we’re having coffee.”

Laura raised her eyebrows. “I thought you hated his work.”

Natasha shrugged. “He didn’t seem to care.” She turned to Laura. “Do you mind if I leave with him?”

“Are you kidding? Go have some fun. He’s hot.”

And that was what she loved about Laura; no judgement, just a mutual appreciation of a really hot guy. They kissed on the cheek and Laura was just about to leave when Steve came striding back to them. She gave him a once over and nodded.

“Behave or I’ll find you and castrate you,” she said easily. “Good night!” 

With that, Laura left them and Natasha shrugged. “She’s protective.”

“I see that,” he laughed. “So, you wanna get out of here?”

“I feel like being too eager might wind up being another insult…”

Steve smiled widely. “It’s alright, I can take it.”

 

They left together and Natasha was the one who somewhat naively thought they’d be going back to someone’s place for the coffee she’d mentioned… and then get to know one another a lot better right afterwards, if they even bothered with the coffee first. But Steve offered her his arm instead of hailing a cab and they walked a block over and into a cozy cafe with low lighting and a selection of muffins on display. Alright, so they were actually going for coffee. Natasha didn’t mind that, although she didn’t entirely want to sit there and listen to Steve attempt to explain the virtues of modern art; she wasn’t interested and she was never going to understand it.

He got her order and told her to pick a spot while he got their drinks, so Natasha sat down at one of the little tables closest to the electric fireplace they had going. It was cold as balls outside as it was and the little black dress and tights she was wearing didn’t do all that much to protect her considering she hadn’t been planning on wandering the city after the opening. By the time he returned, she’d warmed up to the point where she was comfortable removing her coat and gloves, at least.

“Here you go, hot and fresh.”

Steve placed her cup down on the table along with a large chocolate chip muffin for her and an equally impressive black and white cookie for himself. Natasha’s hands went around the cup immediately and she shivered a little as her hands warmed up further.

“So, I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but I promise you that modern art isn’t really the art that I love the most. And that opening… I mean, I was under a lot of pressure to make things that would appeal to the kind of people who buy art, if you know what I mean.”

Natasha arched one skeptical eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you were pressured into making pieces that are successful and going over really well with critics?”

Steve blinked. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he said sheepishly. “It’s not the kind of stuff I usually do.”

“So what do you ‘usually’ do?” She took a sip of her coffee and decided to give him a shot here. There was a huge chance he was full of absolute shit, but how desperate could one guy be? If he was willing to pretend like he hated his own artwork to get into her pants, then he’d at least be entertaining for a while before she blew him off. “If you tell me you draw naked women, I’m walking out right now.”

“That would be a great line, though, wouldn’t it?”

Natasha pressed her lips together.

“Okay, okay. So, I normally do portraits. I draw people and I  _ have _ drawn a few nudes here and there, but I mostly draw strangers. I can’t tell you how many sketches I’ve got of people feeding pigeons in the park.”

Huh. Go figure. The truth was actually way more interesting than what she thought he’d say.

“Why strangers?”

“I guess because you never know what they’re about until you try getting them down on paper, you know?” Steve took a sip of his coffee and licked his lips. “You see someone on the street and they’re just a face in the crowd, but when you stop to really look… you start noticing little things, like how many laugh lines someone’s got or how sad their eyes are…” He chuckled a little and shook his head. “I probably sound totally crazy, don’t I? Like some kind of fucking stalker.”

It was Natasha’s turn to laugh out loud at that. “A little,” she mused. “But you’re a cute stalker.”

“Oh, is that all it takes?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugged. Steve didn’t really sound like a stalker at all; she liked that he was so whimsical and took the time to really see people in a way that most others on the street wouldn’t. It made her wonder what kinds of things he’d see on her face if they were strangers passing one another on the street or at the park or something. It kind of made her wonder what he’d see in her if he drew her now no matter how cliche that might be.

“Alright, your turn. What are you doing when you’re not shitting on modern art?”

Natasha grinned widely. “I teach ballet,” she explained. “At Julliard.”

Steve sat back and gave her a disbelieving look. “Are you serious? Here I am talking about fucking-- sketches and shit, and you’re an expert in your field?”

“Oh, come on,” she laughed. “Teaching doesn’t mean I’m a master.”

“You’re not just a teacher-- you’re teaching at  _Julliard_. Isn’t that like the cream of the crop when it comes to ballet dancers?”

“There is a certain level of skill needed to get in, but…”

“Don’t be modest,” he scolded playfully. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh, don’t let that fool you. I’m not modest.” She tore off a piece of her muffin and shrugged a little as she popped it into her mouth. “But I’m not arrogant either, I don’t think. I’m just proud of the things I’m good at.”

“That’s a good way to be. None of that fake modesty bullshit.” He winked—obviously she was dealing with some kind of dork—and bit into his cookie with gusto. She could tell he was just one of those people who really enjoyed food and he probably didn’t put on a single ounce no matter how much he ate, the asshole. She could bounce quarters off his pecs if she wanted to.

 

In hindsight, thinking about his pecs like that was only going to get her into trouble. Natasha hardly remembered what happened between the moment that Steve jokingly flexed his arm and the moment her back was slammed into the wall outside his apartment, but it involved a cab ride and a lot of PDA.

Oh, but it was so worth it. Steve’s mouth was hot and eager as he kissed her, his rough hands skating down over her arms as he pushed her coat off once they’d gotten inside. Natasha plucked at the buttons on his shirt and tore his undershirt off about as fast as she could, which just so happened to mess his hair in the most fetching, delectable way she could have imagined. Ironic, wasn’t it, that Steve was kind of a work of art himself?

Natasha snickered to herself as she thought about it and deftly pulled his belt out through the hoops at the same time. Fuck it, right? If he was as bad as the paintings in the gallery, then they could call it a one night stand and be done with it. Except that based on the way he knelt down in front of her once he had her dress in a pool at her feet, Steve was not going to be bad at this. Steve was going to be very, very thorough.

With her heels still on, Natasha watched as he settled down on his knees and peeled her little black panties off. He made sure to let his fingers brush all the way down the sides of her legs and she shivered as she stepped out of them, ultimately letting Steve hoist one leg up over his shoulder as she balanced herself back against the wall. It wasn’t the best position if only because her leg was trembling within a few minutes of him going at it, but Natasha grabbed onto his hair with one hand and Steve held her up seemingly effortlessly while she egged him on with breathless moans for more.

She had to give it to him; he went down on her like a champ.

By the time Steve came up for air, Natasha’s legs were wobbling and she held onto him as he stood up. He had this wide, proud smile on his face that she immediately narrowed her eyes at. “Don’t go getting a big head or anything,” she told him. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Natasha got her bearings as fast as she could and pushed him back towards his bedroom, idly leaving a trail of the clothing they hadn’t yet removed; her bra landed in the kitchen, his pants wound up somewhere in the hallway along with one sock and her shoes. They fell into bed and Natasha immediately took the dominant position, seating herself on top of Steve with a grin.

“I’m sorry, you said you  _ didn’t _ like my art, right?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and pressed her lips together. “Do you have some kind of memory problem?”

Steve chuckled and jostled her on his lap a little bit. “Nah, I just need to remember that you’re here not liking any of the art that you saw,” he explained. “I’m kind of waiting to find out what happens when you see something you do like.”

Smiling dangerously, Natasha leaned down to nip at his jaw. “You sure you can handle that?”

“No,” he mumbled, craning his neck to give her more access. “But I’m willing to die trying.”

Natasha liked his spirit. Bolstered by his clear interest in her as a person more than just a warm body for the night, she shimmied down and traced along his abs with her lips and tongue until he was shifting none too subtly on the bed in the hopes that she would give him some relief. She acquiesced and took him in hand before long, shoving his boxers down and out of the way in favor of seating herself between his thighs, her legs spread and draped over them to keep him still.

With his steady gaze on her, Natasha licked her palm and began stroking him from root to tip, lightly cupping her hand around the head with every other upward movement. “You’re bigger than I thought you’d be,” she said heedless of the fact that Steve was desperately trying to shift his hips upward and get more friction. “Thicker too.”

Steve’s hands curled into fists on either side of him. “Yeah? M-makes you wanna speed this up, huh?”

Natasha shrugged a little and gave him a wicked look. “Not really.”

“Are you, ahh—Are you sure you can handle it?”

Raising her eyebrows, Natasha looked up at him for a moment and tilted her head to the side. “Absolutely.”

Steve just about shouted when Natasha finally bent forward and took him into her mouth. She wasn’t even worried about bringing this to an early end; they could always take a rest and get back to it later. Besides, she actually really wanted to get him off like this for the sheer triumph of it.

In fact, as Steve’s hand came to rest in her hair and Natasha’s gag reflex was seriously tested by the size of him, she decided that she’d take this all the way, one way or another. For a while, she bobbed her head and licked under the sensitive head with every intention of making that fragile façade of self-control just crack under the pressure.

It started with a quiet moan, but Natasha was growing eager and restless. She lifted her mouth off and stroked him while she met his frustrated gaze. “I’m not going to let you come unless I can hear you,” she said boldly. Some people didn’t like that kind of thing, but she had a hunch.

“What do you wanna hear?”

Like he didn’t know. “Anything you want to say,” she answered, idly rubbing her thumb over the slit at the top of his dick. “Tell me how it feels. Tell me how much more you want. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Steve blinked and swallowed hard. “Okay.”

Satisfied, Natasha bent right back down and sealed her lips just under the head of his cock before slowly moving down to resume her rhythm. Steve swore under his breath, but he still took a couple of seconds to actually speak up; she wondered if he was embarrassed by it, but he was still hard and she took that as a good sign.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he panted eventually. “Your mouth is so...hot.”

Natasha inwardly congratulated herself on winning the upper hand and doubled her efforts as a reward. She didn’t want to overstep and go for those little places some men might be uncomfortable with, but she lightly scratched over his abs with both sets of nails and breathed in deep through her nose as she tried to take him all.

“Jesus  _ fuck _ .”

Poor Steve. He probably hadn’t anticipated Natasha being a pseudo-sadist in the bedroom. As her nails continued down to his hips where she could dig them into his skin, Natasha pulled off with a gasp and licked her swollen lips for him to see.

A second later, she was back at it and hollowing her cheeks while she bobbed her head and tried to breathe through her nose because this was happening…

“Oh- Oh my God—“ Steve sounded wrecked and she wholly appreciated his efforts to speak even though he’d only gotten a few words out. They could work on that next time… assuming that there was a next time. Slowly making his way through the waves of pleasure coursing through him, Steve babbled out a few more things and eventually tugged Natasha up to wrap his arms around her.

It wasn’t what Natasha expected and she grumbled into his neck for a few moments before his arms relaxed and he turned so they were lying on their sides facing one another. He looked practically delirious; she didn’t know if she should congratulate herself or ask him exactly how long it had been since he’d gotten laid. Either way, she’d clearly done a good job.

“Never been with someone who likes to hear you talk, huh?” Natasha got comfortable right there, their legs tangled together between them. “We’ll have to work on that.”

Steve huffed out a soft laugh. “That’s the easiest time I’ve ever had asking someone out.”

“I’m sorry, did I miss you actually asking?”

“No,” he laughed. “But it’s a good thing you didn’t wait. I’ve got a bad track record.”

“Too shy?”

Steve shrugged a little bit and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “Something like that.”

He studied her for a while longer and Natasha found the silence between them a little odd. She wasn’t used to just being with someone; she’d had boyfriends, but when they were together it was for a reason. They were either having sex or watching a movie or even studying, but never just… staring at each other. She wasn’t the type to find pleasure in making eyes at a guy. 

 

“You really are beautiful, y’know.”

 

Natasha swallowed and averted her gaze not out of modesty, but discomfort. How was she supposed to answer something like that? He was so fucking up front about it and she couldn’t remember anyone who’d come right out and said something so genuine right to her face without a trace of embarrassment on his part. 

“You already got me into bed,” she muttered as she looked back up at him.

Steve laughed softly. “Yeah, I know. ‘Scuze me if I wanna keep you here.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know that listening to you shit on my art in a room full of people who wouldn’t insult it even if they hated it was the most entertaining part of my day,” he countered. “I mean, you were really going at it. Stuff a kindergartner could make and all that.”

Natasha covered her face and groaned. “I didn’t know I was talking to--” Wait. She pulled her hands away and gave him a disbelieving look. “I didn’t say that to you,” she said evenly. “Oh my God, were you listening to me before you came over?”

Steve gave her a bashful smile and she sat up a little to shove at his shoulder.

“You asshole, you set me up!”

“Okay, but in my defense--” He looked like he couldn’t quite keep himself from laughing. “I thought you were hysterical and I wanted to get to know you. Man, you should have seen the look on your face when you realized who I am.”

Natasha gaped at him for a second and decided that the best thing she could possibly do right now was tackle him, straddle him, and hold him down with both hands on his chest. “You’re such an asshole,” she accused lightly. “What kind of masochist are you that you wanted to listen to someone criticize your stuff?”

Steve shrugged a little. “I told you,” he said. “I like ballsy.”

Unbelievable. Natasha shook her head at him and leaned down for another kiss. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she told him. “Otherwise, I might have to tell you off for all that.”

 

Skipping the sex for tonight, they settled down together before long and fell asleep cuddled up in a pile of blankets to protect them from the cold outside. Natasha wasn’t one to complain about the solid eight hours she got surrounded by warmth and the solid chest of one  _ very _ handsome man, but when she woke up and found him gone? That just wasn’t acceptable. But they were at his place, so he couldn’t have gone very far…

Natasha pushed herself up and began rubbing at her eyes--

“Don’t move.”

Frowning lightly, Natasha slowly lowered herself back to the bed and let her hand fall to her side to reveal Steve, sitting at the foot of the bed with a sheet over his lap and a pencil in hand.

“Are you  _ drawing _ me?” She asked incredulously. “Are you serious right now?”

Steve raised his eyebrows for a moment when he glanced up. “Is that a problem?”

Natasha pressed her lips together. “The only thing I have a problem with is the fact that you’re somehow the biggest dork I’ve ever met,  _ and _ good in bed,  _ and _ fucking handsome.”

“I’m glad you could still find two good things to say, since ‘talented’ wasn’t going to be in there,” he countered teasingly.

“Well, I haven’t seen one of your real drawings yet.” Natasha shifted just a little bit so she could watch him while he worked. “How long have you been watching me sleep?”

Steve’s cheeks flushed a little bit and he reached up to idly scratch at his scalp, only messing up his hair a bit further. “Not that long,” he said off handedly. “I mean, there’s a lot of detail…”

“Stalker,” she said with a wide smile. “Go on, finish your drawing.”

 

It didn’t take him that much longer, but Natasha didn’t even need half that time to decide that she wanted to see him again. Steve was an interesting guy; she could do a lot worse than an artist with a nice set of abs and a big dick, right? Besides, he was… sweet.

“All done!” Steve closed the sketchpad and tossed it onto the dresser nearby in favor of crawling over her and planting one solid kiss on her lips.

“Wait, wait!” Natasha squirmed underneath him and lightly pushed at his chest. “I wanna see the drawing!” She laughed as Steve shut her up with another kiss and laid down on top of her in a clear attempt at preventing her from seeing what he’d made. “Don’t you think--” She laughed again and groaned at the weight on top of her. “I’m not gonna--” Steve kissed her again and lingered this time, although neither of them could stop smiling. “I’m not gonna forget about that picture,” she said as she grabbed his face in both hands. “Doesn’t matter what you do right now.”

Steve grinned widely. “You sure about that?”

Before Natasha could come back with a witty response, Steve ducked down and pulled the covers over his head so he could make his way down between her legs. With Natasha still squirming a little, he brought his mouth down on her and it was just as good as it had been the night before. Steve deserved some kind of award for the way he ate her out--- it was like he was born to do it.

He certainly didn’t waste any time. Steve had two fingers inside her and his tongue on her clit in no time; Natasha even arched her back so see if she could get more friction, idly pressing her hips down and swiveling them against his fingers. She was panting before very long at all and closed her eyes to focus on the way his fingers curled up inside her. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten about seeing his drawing, but how could she possibly be expected to think about that right now?

Natasha’s hands flew up to grab the headboard as she slowly fell over the edge and into a wave of pleasure that washed over her from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her head. She didn’t even make much noise other than a few shallow moans and shaky breaths, but when he was finished she pulled him up and kissed him deeply on the mouth while she scratched over his shoulders and down to his biceps. Her hands slid back up to his cheeks as their kiss came to a soft end and she held him right there, leaning their foreheads together in a sweet—

“Show me that picture,” she demanded. Her breath was still short, but she didn’t care.

Steve laughed out loud and rolled off her to rub a hand over his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

She didn’t argue and Steve had little choice but to get himself up and grab the sketchbook while Natasha wrapped a sheet around her chest to stay decent.

The sketch wasn’t anything like she’d imagined it would be. Steve had said that modern art wasn’t really his thing and she could see why! He had talent—he had real talent that was wasted creating sploshes of paint and meaningless nothings when he could be putting people down on paper. She looked so peaceful and despite the fact that she was nude under his sheets, he’d managed to make the whole thing look kind of innocent. The amount of detail that had gone into the way the sheets bunched around her hips and the one bare leg peeking out was just shy of astounding and she wondered again just how long he’d been watching her before she woke up.

“If you hate it, you’d better say so,” he said teasingly. “I’d be heartbroken if you started lying now just to spare my feelings.”

Natasha shook her head a little. “I’m utterly surprised to say that I love it.”

Steve let out a bark of laughter. “Wow, you really hated that stuff at the gallery, huh?”

“I kind of did. This is so much more beautiful--- And not just because it’s me.” She slowly let her fingertip just ghost over a few of the lines on the paper and huffed out a breath through her nose. “Handsome, good in bed, and talented. I’d love to see this kind of stuff on display. That’s a show I’d enjoy.”

Steve ducked his head shyly and gave her permission to look through some of the other pages he’d already used up. She flipped through pictures of people on the train, people panhandling or performing in the train stations, people at the park, people drinking coffee… A few of the pictures were a little more intimate; there was an older woman in various situations like baking or kneading bread dough at a counter and a handsome man with a cocky smirk and in at least some of the pictures, a uniform hat.

“I actually love these,” she admitted as she closed the book again. “Thanks for showing me.”

Steve shrugged. “Not every day that I let someone browse my sketchbook, but I’m glad you like them.”

Natasha paused for a moment. “Would you want to come see a show? I know it’s probably not your kind of thing, but we can expand each other’s cultural… appreciation.”

“Yeah, why not?” He smiled widely. “Are you dancing in it?”

“It’s sort of a variety show—the teachers all do one performance together, if they’re capable of dancing.” She smiled. “So, yes. The short answer is that yes, I’m dancing.”

“Then you can definitely count me in.”

Steve winked at her and excused himself so he could start getting breakfast together. Left alone in his room, Natasha took the time to look around and see what she could see. It was a neat room; no clothes strewn on the floor, no incriminating things lying around. Even her clothes were neatly folded and piled on a chair nearby, which she thought was kind of adorable. Sliding out of bed at last, she rummaged around in one of his drawers and pulled out a Mets jersey that would keep her warm enough and reached all the way down to her thighs. It would do for now. Pushing a hand through her hair, she wandered out of the bedroom and followed the smell of coffee right into the kitchen, where Steve was cooking eggs in a pair of pajama pants.

“Are you always this energetic in the morning?” She asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Steve pushed the eggs around and nudged at his bacon to make sure it was cooking properly. “I didn’t even go on my run this morning, so I’m extra energetic.”

Natasha made a face as she added sugar to her coffee and slid into a seat at the little table behind him. “God, you’re a morning person,” she muttered. “Gross.”

Steve turned to give her a look. “Gross? You didn’t think I was gross when I had my head between your legs.”

“That’s an exception to literally every rule,” she argued. “Morning people are scary. It’s not natural.”

“Maybe you’re not natural.” Steve grinned as he turned back around to deal with the food. “I hope you like eggs, by the way. And bacon. And toast. I’ve got fruit too.”

Natasha licked her lips. “But how am I going to preserve my dainty figure?”

Steve slowly turned around and blinked twice. “Um. I can make egg whites?” The poor guy looked like it was physically painful to say those words.

“When was the last time you had a salad, Steve?”

“I’m proud to say that I can’t remember,” he deadpanned.

Natasha rolled her eyes and took another sip of her coffee. “Lucky for you, I like my eggs as yellow as you do,” she teased. “Bring on the bacon.”

Steve made a really good plate of scrambled eggs, as it turned out. They ate together like they hadn’t just met the night before and Natasha got up to clear the plates when they were done. It was the least she could do, she said. But Steve had other plans, as his arms came circling her waist before she was done with the first plate and he hooked his chin over her shoulder.

“How did I just realize that you’re wearing my shirt?” He mumbled into her neck. “I never look that good in my clothes.”

Natasha laughed. “I beg to differ, but I guess it’s all a matter of taste.”

“Leave the dishes.”

“Don’t tell me what to—“

Natasha yelped a little as Steve scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the kitchen towards the bedroom again. “You’re a goddamn caveman,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. “A caveman disguised as a gentleman.”

“Is that a good thing?” He asked as he set her down on the bed. “It feels like a good thing if it means I get to carry you around.”

Rolling her eyes again, Natasha moved to tug her shirt off and he stopped her.

“Keep it on,” he said bashfully. “I really like how it looks.”

Steve tasted like butter when they kissed again and Natasha quickly wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him down on top of her. If he wanted her to keep the shirt on then she would; it was cold and it wasn’t like he hadn’t already seen her naked. Besides, she was going all the way home this time and based on the hard length already pressed against her, Steve had the same idea.

Natasha rolled her hips up and groaned as he ducked down to kiss her neck. She’d waited long enough at this point; the fact that she hadn’t already jumped him was some kind of feat she felt he ought to be praising her for or something. Reaching down, she shoved his pajama pants down and he finally got to helping her so he could fall right between her legs and right into place---

“Are you—“

“Clean and on the pill,” she panted.

“Yeah, me too. Clean.”

It wasn’t the smartest thing in the world, but Natasha believed him and kissed him hard as he slipped into her at last. Steve moaned into her ear as he settled inside her and Natasha arched her back a little bit to urge him on. He didn’t need a lot of encouragement because he was moving in seconds, smoothly rolling his hips and thrusting into her at just the right angle.

Missionary went from uncoordinated and sloppy to an even pace that suited them both. Natasha clutched at Steve’s broad shoulders for the length of it and savored how he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, his lips brushing along her throat as she let her head fall back. But eventually they clambered into a different position with Natasha straddling his lap and Steve’s back against the headboard for balance. From there, she could really appreciate the swell of his arms as he held her, the breadth of his thighs where she was seated on them, and the thickness of his cock filling her perfectly.

“Steve…”

Natasha rocked her hips a little faster and bit down on her bottom lip as her brow furrowed and she eagerly chased the release she knew was coming. His hands landed on her ass and spread her open under the guise of helping her keep moving on top of him. For a while, they just rutted against one another, both short of breath and hardly separating at all. It got so frantic that Natasha was pretty sure they were giving each other bruises, but neither of them cared enough to stop.

When Natasha finally came, she shivered on top of him and clawed at his hair for some kind of grounding as he continued to move. Despite the cold outside, they were both covered in a light sheen of sweat from the exertion and Steve’s face was flushed as he buried his face in her neck and came with a low groan, his hips stuttering for a few moments before stopping completely. Dragging his head up, Steve kissed her a couple of times and she fell back, idly dragging him on top of her for the time being.

 

They took a nap after that and woke up feeling rejuvenated and energetic. After another round in the shower—always an interesting and acrobatic experience—they decided to get dressed and go out for lunch. Natasha wore one of Steve’s flannel shirts with the bottom tied around her waist and made the best of her walk-of-shame look while they pigged out on dumplings and soup at a place nearby.

“Were you serious about that show?”

Natasha looked up from her bowl and slurped up the noodle currently hanging out of her mouth.  “Why wouldn’t I be serious about it?”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe you just said it in the heat of the moment?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and went back to eating. “I was serious about it,” she said. “But it’s not until next month, so if you want to see me again before that, you’re going to have to actually put in some effort.”

Sitting back, Steve put a hand on his chest and gave her a disbelieving look. “You mean that agreeing to have my work featured in a gallery and going up to the person who audibly hated all of it isn’t putting in effort?”

They laughed that off and finished their meal on very good terms; Steve abjectly refused to let her pay and Natasha shook her head at him because of the over exaggerated display of chivalry. But she also gave him a kiss on the cheek when they left arm in arm. Natasha had to teach a class that afternoon, so they exchanged numbers and said their goodbyes outside the train station.

“Okay, how much shit are you gonna give me if I give you a kiss right here?”

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable, Steve.”

Steve smirked and huffed out a breath through his nose. “Yeah, they do.” With that, he leaned down and kissed her right on the lips in front of God, the homeless guy down the street, and anyone else who cared enough to watch. Natasha let it happen and wrapped her arms around his waist under his jacket where it was warm; she wasn’t entirely happy that she had to let go when their lips parted, but such was life.

“You’ll call?”

It wasn’t like her. It wasn’t like her at all to be so eager to hear from a guy, but who was she kidding? Steve was shaping up to be the whole package in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She just kept adding little things to the list and the longer she knew him, the more she realized that her mental list was running out of paper. At some point, she was going to have to admit that he was perfect.

“Yeah, definitely,” he said. “Tomorrow, if I can wait that long.”

Natasha decided that he deserved another kiss and pushed herself up on her toes to give it to him. They parted ways after that; Steve watched her head into the train station and Natasha headed home feeling surprisingly optimistic about her future… and more specifically, her future with Steve.

 

One Month Later…

“You didn’t—“

“Oh, but I did.”

Steve stood in the backstage waiting area looking like a cat that got the canary and holding a massive bouquet of red roses wrapped in plastic and ribbon to hold it together. He was all kinds of dressed up in khakis and a nice button down and even a jacket! He looked half upstanding soldier and half sweet boyfriend. Honestly, the nerve of him.

“I told you that you didn’t have to get me flowers,” she said as she stepped closer and accepted the bouquet. “You’re insane.”

“I’m fucking  _ impressed _ .”

Natasha shook her head at him. “I’m glad you liked it,” she said. “But you know you’re crazy, right?”

Steve laughed out loud as he pulled her in and kissed her temple. “If that’s what I am, then so be it.”

Once Natasha was dressed and ready, they left for a celebratory dinner and Steve popped a very important question. That is, he asked Natasha whether or not he could use a few of the sketches he’d done of her for his next show. The gallery had done so well on the last one than they wanted to host a second. She agreed and they toasted to his career taking off and her talent enduring a lack of practice.

The next time Natasha attended a gallery opening in Steve’s company, she got to watch as people flocked around her boyfriend and his sketches. She got to stand at his side while they complimented his talent and announced which pieces they’d be buying. And that night, she got to find out what a truly victorious Steve was like in bed. In short, Natasha never kept her opinions to herself again.


	10. Tulips and Tattoos (Stucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's got a crush on the cute guy who works at the flower shop across the street.

This time, he was going to do it for real. Bucky was going to just march into the store, square his shoulders, and ask out the cute guy behind the counter. If it was the last thing he ever did, it was going to happen today. NOTHING was going to stop him from—

Steve looked up and met his eyes through the glass door Bucky had been staring at for the past five minutes and smiled—and that was enough. Bucky gave a weak smile in return, waved, and then bolted away from there as fast as he possibly could. Fuck. Fuck, that was not how it was supposed to go.

With his tail firmly between his legs, Bucky went right back where he belonged and landed in his usual chair somewhere behind the counter. It wasn’t even fair. Steve was so goddamn—pretty. How was he supposed to remain calm while they were face to face? How could he possibly deal with that face up close? Mumbling to himself about how fucking stupid he was, Bucky adjusted himself and went back to drawing a design for a regular customer’s tattoo. A hot air balloon; nothing too complex, but he could hardly focus on it.

 

“Chickened out again, huh?”

Natasha’s voice cut through the haze in Bucky’s mind and he grunted back at her. “Just thought better of it,” he said. “That’s not chickening out; it’s being smart.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “You’re head over heels in love with the guy and you’ve spoken—what? Maybe twice?”

“Three times.” Bucky’s answer was way too fast to be anything but pathetic. “We’ve spoken three times. About the rain, about the snow… and once when he opened the door for me on my way into the diner for lunch.”

Bucky could count the number of words they’d actually exchanged and it was a sad, sad number. There was nothing stopping him from going in there and actually introducing himself to the guy. It wasn’t like Steve was scary or anything; quite the contrary, he looked like a big, beautiful boy scout.

But maybe that was the problem! Steve looked like the personification of the Ideal Man and that was just too much pressure for Bucky, who was nothing more than an amputee with a fucked up head and a perpetual five o’clock shadow. Fuck. 

“That’s so sad, I don’t even have the words,” Natasha sighed, shaking her head as she leaned against the front counter with a magazine. “And why can’t you just ask him out again?”

Bucky sighed.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he mumbled. “It’s not like he’d say yes even if I did ask.”

Natasha rolled her eyes—Bucky couldn’t see her do it, but he knew it was happening anyway. “You don’t know that,” she reminded him. “There’s no way you could possibly know that.”

Okay, so Bucky didn’t know for sure, but Steve probably had better prospects out there. The guy looked like he had men and women falling at his feet all the goddamn time and he was probably incredibly sweet about the whole thing! He was probably the kind of guy who missed signals because he was just trying to be nice. If that wasn’t the case, there was a chance that he might have called Bucky out on all the weirdness.

 

Three days later, Bucky decided to try again. It was early in the morning when he arrived and Steve was outside the flower shop pulling the gates up for the day. Even in his jacket, Bucky could see how fit he was and it made him want to cry. He felt every bit the teenager Natasha accused him of being, especially since the glimpse of Steve’s stomach when he stretched up made Bucky actually lick his lips.

“Good morning!” He was too eager. God. Bucky swore under his breath as he lifted his good arm and waved to Steve on his way past.

Steve looked surprised, but he smiled a smile worthy of a sun god and waved back. “Morning!”

Bucky hesitated for another second before ducking away from there and mumbling under his breath about how stupid he was. At least Natasha hadn’t been around to witness that one, because she’d definitely give him shit for it and she’d be totally within her rights to do so.

Thankfully, the morning went on as usual and the memory of his earlier embarrassment faded with time. Bucky was too busy to focus on the interaction he’d had with Steve that morning; they had customers in nearly every slot and several with designs he needed to work on. He was way too happy for the distraction, if only because he wasn’t going to let Natasha know how much he was beating himself up. He didn’t want to hear about how he should man up and just talk to the guy normally.

It was nearly quitting time when the bell over the door chimed and Bucky greeted the customer without looking up from the current sketch he was working on. “One second, be right with you.”

When he finally looked up, he found Steve standing in the waiting area with his hands in his pockets and his head tilted back as he looked over the tattoos displayed on the wall. Oh, shit. Bucky scrambled to get up and offered an unsure smile.

“Hey, how can I help you?”

Steve smiled widely and approached the counter. He looked even more beautiful close up and Bucky wondered if he could even get his arms around those shoulders of his. “I hope so, yeah,” he said smoothly. “I’m looking to get a tattoo. First time and all—I figured you could walk me through it.”

Bucky practically blanched at the thought of spending that much one-on-one time with Steve, but he covered it well enough, he hoped. “Okay, well, what were you thinking of getting?”

Usually this was the hardest part for a lot of people. Some didn’t handle the pain very well, but all had issues picking their design and perfecting it just the way they wanted it. Putting something permanently on your body ought to be a big decision, he supposed, although he also had a small black cat on his left ass cheek, so he shouldn’t talk.

“I was hoping to get a serial number on my bicep. Like on the inside…” He lifted his right arm and curled it up to show off the neat line beneath his bicep where the tattoo would go. “That’s possible, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck with his good arm and considered both Steve and Steve’s arm. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, though. ‘Specially for a first timer.”

Steve shrugged a little bit as he lowered his arm. “I’ve got a high tolerance for pain.”

“Great. That’s great, um… what kind of font?”

Bucky pulled out a thick binder and flipped to the pages showcasing different types of print for Steve’s selection. It would probably be better with something plain and solid, but he’d had weirder requests than a serial number in some kind of fancy script. They poured over the options for a short while before Steve pointed to a simple, typewriter-like font that Bucky could copy easily. He grabbed his sketchpad and asked for the number, which he scrawled at the top before beginning to draw it out in the font Steve had chosen.

“You’re really good,” Steve remarked. “Would you be the one doing the tattoo?”

Bucky immediately tensed a little bit. People seemed to think that just because his left arm was fucked up, he wouldn’t be able to do his goddamn job. “Is that a problem?” He was guarded and unsure, but Steve only gave him a smile in return.

“No, I’d rather it was you,” he said warmly. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

Oh. Bucky’s cheeks flushed a little and he ducked back down to finish the drawing. “So, what is this? If you don’t mind me asking,” he mumbled. “What’s the number stand for?”

“It’s my army ID number,” he explained. “I’m tired of wearing my tags.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say to that. Who knew this guy was ex-army too? He didn’t entirely look it; Steve just seemed really clean cut and neat, but there was no way Bucky would have guessed that he was an army vet. “Y-yeah?” He finished the numbers and looked up. “Me too. I was in the army too.”

“I had a feeling.” Steve looked like he’d known all along that Bucky had been a soldier. “So, can we do it right now? I’m up for it and I closed the store early."

Bucky glanced around and figured that if he snuck Steve into his designated room, Natasha wouldn’t know until it was over that he had been there at all. “Yeah, come back here,” he said quickly, guiding Steve around the counter and into his room. “You wanna take the shirt off, or…?”

“I’ll just roll up the sleeve,” he answered as he took a seat in Bucky’s chair and did just that. God, his bicep was enormous. Bucky wasn’t out of shape himself, but Steve was on a whole other level.

Bucky got Steve into position once he’d signed the relevant consent documents and started preparing himself—gloves, ink, mask, etc. He was a professional, after all. It didn’t matter that he wanted to actually lick his way up Steve’s arm. And for this? He didn’t even need a stencil; he’d just go freehand.

“You know, it’s kind of crazy that we work so close to each other and we’ve never really spoken,” Steve mused as Bucky got the ink ready. “Right?”

Not for lack of trying, but yeah. “I know, right?” He huffed. “I guess that’s just New York for you. People don’t make friends with neighbors.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” Steve huffed. He was a good customer; Bucky told him to stay still and he did. “I don’t think I can more than one or two of the people on my floor.”

Bucky nodded along. “Yeah, same,” he mused as he got into position. “Hold still, okay? Deep breaths, nice and slow.” He had to give it to him; Steve didn’t even jump all that much at the first touch of the needle to his skin. Apparently he meant what he said when he boasted about that high tolerance for pain.

 

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth and smiled widely. “So how long have you been doing this?”

“Started getting into it after I came back from deployment. My therapist suggested taking up a new hobby to focus on or something, and I had a friend who did this… She works here too, matter of fact. Anyway, I picked it up and started training and… just kind of fell into it, y’know?”

“That’s pretty great,” Steve answered. “My therapist suggested a new hobby too, but all I did was take up running.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s better than the alternative.”

“The alternative being flinching at every loud sound and insomnia and nightmares when you finally get some sleep…” He huffed a little bit and shook his head as he moved on to the next number. “Yeah, I’d say running is a good alternative.”

Steve was quiet for a few beats after that and Bucky wondered if he’d gone too far. He was just assuming that if Steve had a shrink to answer to after the army, he also dealt with the whole PTSD nonsense. And hey, some people didn’t like actually talking about it.

“Well, when you put it like that,” he said smoothly. “I guess you’re right.”

They were quiet for quite a few moments after that. Bucky felt like he was sweating or something and God knows he didn’t want Steve to notice, but he was pretty close for it to be ignored. In any case, the tattoo was coming out just fine and it didn’t hurt that he got to have his face so utterly close to what might be the world’s most perfect bicep. And to think, he reminded himself, if he’d just been a little braver he might have been able to touch Steve’s bicep in a more intimate sense…

Or Steve didn’t swing that way and things would have gotten awkward.

“So, I’ve seen you outside my store,” Steve said quietly. “Got an interest in flowers?”

Bucky didn’t glance up, but his heart began to beat wildly in his chest. “Uh…”

“Or maybe someone special you’d like to get flowers for? I could give you a hand with that. Especially since you're staying open late to do this for me.”

Shit. “No one special for me,” he mumbled. “I just like… looking at them.”

Steve smiled—Bucky could see it out of the corner of his eye. “They are beautiful, aren’t they? I think I spend like half my time in there drawing them.”

Bucky finally picked his head up and raised his eyebrows. “You draw?”

Steve shrugged and it was so goddamn modest that Bucky kind of wanted to slap him for it. “I dabble,” he said easily. “I was sick as a kid, you know? Spent a lot of time indoors.”

Huh. So they did have something ‘normal’ in common, although he wasn’t quite sure a sketching hobby and drawing tattoos was on the same level. Regardless, it was something; a common thread besides the army and all that violence and unhappiness.

“If you wanted to show me a few, we might be able to use them…”

“Hey, I need to borrow one of those therapy things you’ve got in here. I’ve got this newbie who came in late and won’t relax…”

Natasha came into the room like a storm and stopped right there in the doorway. Bucky lifted his head up and Steve smiled politely. “Well, well, well,” she teased. “He finally spoke to you, huh?”

Bucky glared at her and opened his mouth to reply, but Steve spoke up first. “I had to get a new tattoo to get him talking.”   


 

Wait.

 

Bucky slowly turned his gaze up to Steve and frowned at him. “What?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said quickly. “But I didn’t know how else to do this, so I figured… maybe once we were alone, you’d be more comfortable?”

Bucky pressed his lips together and looked to Natasha. “You knew about this?”

Natasha shrugged and grabbed one of the stress balls Bucky had stacked up in a corner of the room. “Who do you think clued him in on your little crush?”

Fucking traitor. Natasha left them and Bucky sat back a little. “So you literally decided that you were going to get a tattoo to talk to me? Kind of extreme, don’t you think?”

Steve gave him what looked like a relatively sheepish smile, but he didn’t look too apologetic for what he’d done. “It’s not my first,” he confessed, hiking up his shirt to show off the nicest set of abs Bucky had ever been lucky enough to see—and a tattoo just under his pec displaying a quote in neat script handwriting. It was a beautiful tattoo, really. Bucky hoped the tattoo he was working on looked half as good at the end of it all.

Bucky shook his head in disbelief. “I knew you were behaving too well to be a first timer,” he muttered. “I knew it.”

Steve chuckled and lowered his shirt again. “I really hope you’re not mad,” he said again. “I just wanted an excuse to talk to you, that’s all. Figured this was the best way to go.”

Pretending that he wasn’t incredibly flattered by that was probably the hardest thing Bucky had done that day. He huffed a little and went back to his work because it was easier to focus on the tattoo than it was to actually look into Steve’s hopeful eyes.

“Does that mean you’ll go out with me? Because this is gonna be really fucking awkward if you say no.”

Bucky very nearly pressed too hard. He yanked his head up and frowned as he pulled his mask off. “You can’t say shit like that while I’ve got a needle in my hand,” he accused, his cheeks flaring up as he spoke. “I almost ran a line right through your arm.”

Steve smiled widely like there was nothing wrong with that at all. “You’re really cute when you’re blushing.”

Bucky pressed his lips together. “I am not blushing.”

“You’re definitely blushing.”

Narrowing his eyes a little, Bucky made a face and sighed. “Okay, whatever.” He put his mask back into place and got back to work—he had to finish eventually, after all. “Where are you taking me?”

“There’s this feast my church throws every summer. I figured we could go there, play some games, eat some good food… There are rides too. Ferris wheel and all that.”

Bucky glanced up for a split second before continuing the tattoo. “Yeah. That sounds like fun.”

Steve seemed a little giddy that he’d said yes, which was just weird considering Natasha had pretty much assured him that Bucky was interested. The tattoo was all done pretty soon after that and Bucky did what he had to do in order to seal it and keep it all clean until it healed. Once he was out of his mask and gloves, Bucky had no choice but to turn back to Steve and give him a wry smile.

“You’re sure about this?” He asked. “I meant what I said about nightmares and shit. And I’m not… whole.” He idly gestured to his arm, but kept his gaze mostly on Steve for the time being; he wanted a real reaction and he wanted to make sure it was all okay.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” There was a lot of conviction there, like Steve hadn’t even considered his arm or his PTSD being an issue. “I’ve been dying to ask you out for ages, but I wasn’t sure you were interested, you know? I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Oh, so the intermittent staring wasn’t enough of a clue?”

Steve laughed out loud. “Okay, so I thought there might be a chance. I just don’t have a good track record,” he shrugged. “I’m glad Natasha said something to me.”

At the counter, Steve reached for his wallet and Bucky waved him off. “On the house. And hey, if you wanted to make sure I get a kiss after our date, then that would be okay,” he said quickly. “Just saying.”

Steve grinned widely and leaned over the counter a little bit. "I'll give you a kiss right now if you want one." 

"You two are adorable." Both men stood up straight and turned to where Natasha was leaning against a doorway watching them. "Go on, kiss. Don't mind me."

Bucky sighed. "I can't let her win," he said defiantly. "So I'm holding you to it. I want at least one kiss after our date."

"Alright, you got it. One kiss after our date." Steve smiled. "If I can wait that long."


	11. A First Date (Captasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actually based off a story I heard from a friend-- Steve and Natasha are in high school and going on their very first date, but the venue isn't what Natasha expected it to be. (Basically, Steve's adorable and Natasha can't resist.)

There weren’t many people who could surprise Natasha, but it would seem that Steve had once again done just enough to set himself apart from the rest of the herd. Over two years of being in the same school, a handful of polite exchanges while she was working her summer job at the local coffee shop, three months of being in the same English class, and at least two weeks of deliberately hinting that she wanted him to ask her out… and they were standing outside a Chuck E Cheese.

How on Earth did this happen? Did everyone else know that Mr. Popular was actually a huge dork?

“Here?” She asked, pointing to the doors in front of them.

Steve grinned widely. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “It’s fun, you’ll see.”

She doubted that, but what was she supposed to do? Steve was really hot and really sweet; maybe she should just give this a chance? What was the worst that could happen?

Steve led the way in and paid for the cards they could use for the games on the main part of the floor. He handed her one while they headed inside and Natasha offered him a smile even though she was pretty sure this was the lamest thing she’d ever been a part of- and considering she was best friends with someone who routinely fell asleep in public places, that was saying something.

“C’mon, let’s try that one.”

Steve seemed oddly excited as he led her over to a basketball game near the back and pressed his card against the reader so he could play. The cheesy music started up and she watched, equally fascinated and amused, as he tried to get in as many baskets as he could within the time limit. He actually did fairly well and pulled off a line of tickets that he stuffed into his back pocket while he turned to give her a proud smile.

“Nice job,” she quipped. “You think I should try?”

She was at least six inches shorter than him and probably couldn’t reach nearly as well as he could, but that was beside the point. He encouraged her to give it a go and Natasha tried her best, but she only wound up with a handful of baskets and a pitiful number of tickets.

“Don’t worry, that one’s pretty hard,” he told her. “Let’s try that one instead—“

Natasha would readily admit that it was a little difficult for her to just relax and play the games. They were surrounded by a whole lot of small children and their parents and it was… different. It wasn’t exactly Natasha’s usual choice of venue, nor her usual choice of people to hang out with.

But Steve was a nice guy and she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt here. At some point, she spotted a big, blinking chance wheel near the back and grabbed his hand to pull him over there, where she promptly swiped her card and spun the wheel with a grunt. They watched together as the wheel went around and around and around---

And landed on the jackpot: one thousand tickets and they were all automatically applied to Natasha’s card.

“Holy shit!” Steve laughed out loud as the machine made noises and flashed lights at them. “One spin and you get the jackpot? Are you magic or something?”

Natasha couldn’t believe it. She never won anything! “I guess so?”

From that moment on, it was a lot easier to just get into the spirit of the place. Natasha happily followed Steve around and watched him play game after game, but that was nothing compared to picking the games herself. She happily played basketball and football and whatever else happened to catch her eye. By the time they’d run out of tokens on their cards, they had over two thousand tickets combined and Steve proudly led Natasha to the prize counter so they could redeem them.

Now, the really ‘good’ prizes were for crazy people who spent an extraordinary amount based on the probably shrill complaints of their demon spawn. Natasha surveyed the brightly colored toys, but she eventually chose two of the big lollipops they had on display, plus a plastic ring with a big jewel on it, a coloring book, and a set of colored pencils that didn’t even begin to approach Crayola quality.

Steve, at her insistence, picked out a couple of action figures and a handful of candy that he promptly offered to share with Natasha while they made their way out.

“That was surprisingly fun,” she admitted as she unwrapped one of the small candies he handed over and popped it into her mouth. “What now?”

Steve smiled proudly, like he had been worried she’d just wind up hating him for his choice of venue. “I thought we’d try something grown up and go eat,” he said. “But I’m not sure what you like, so I’ve got a restaurant for like every cuisine. Gimme a clue.”

Natasha had to laugh at that. For a first date, this was turning out to be a lot more interesting than she’d expected. “Okay, so I love to eat,” she said. “I love pizza and barbeque and steak… but I think I’m feeling like American food? Like a burger or something?”

“I’ve got the perfect place.”

 

Steve got them an Uber and refused to tell her where they were headed. She just had to trust him, he said. Well, Natasha actually did trust him. There was something inherently trustworthy about a guy like Steve, who was all smiles and sweetness and manners.

When they finally arrived, Natasha took one look at the hole-in-the-wall diner in Brooklyn he’d brought them to and let out a bark of laughter.

“Hey, it’s better than it looks, okay? Take my word for it.”

Natasha gave him a dubious look, but allowed Steve to hold the door for her and usher her inside. The place was clean at neat, at least. Considering that Natasha almost never stepped foot in Brooklyn at all, it was impressive and she was grateful the place looked okay. Trust Steve, she reminded herself. He’d been right about Chuck E’ Cheese, after all.

“Good afternoon,” the waitress said. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Steve asked for soda and Natasha went with water for now. They were left alone to look over the menu and Natasha considered exactly how much food she could order without seeming like she was more curious than anything else. She just wanted to see what this place had to offer.

“I’m starving,” Steve mused as he looked over his own menu. All snuggled into a little booth by a window, he looked even bigger than usual. “What looks good to you?”

“Well, if you’re going to recommend a place, then I want you to recommend the food too,” she reasoned. “Let’s hear it. What’s good?”

“Oh, that’s just an impossible question. Everything here is amazing. I don’t think I’ve tried anything I didn’t like---”

He took in Natasha’s raised eyebrow and the look she was giving him, which was definitely half amusement and half disbelief. “Okay, okay. You want really good? Go for the classics-- cheeseburger and fries, and a milkshake. I recommend the chocolate.”

The waitress came back with their drinks and Steve gestured for Natasha to go first. She ordered what he’d suggested to her; cheeseburger and fries, with a chocolate milkshake.

And then there was Steve. “I’ll have the double cheeseburger platter with fries and onion rings… and yeah, I’ll get a chocolate milkshake too. Oh, and I’m gonna want.. What pie do you have today?”

“Cherry and apple.”

Steve groaned. “Apple, with ice cream for dessert. She’ll have a piece too.”

The waitress left before Natasha could protest and she pressed her lips together. “I don’t like people ordering for me.”

“Trust me, you’ll love it,” he said quickly. “If you don’t, I’ll eat your piece  _ and _ get you something else, don’t worry. I take food really seriously.”

“I can tell,” she mused. “You certainly ordered enough of it.”

“What can I tell you? I’m a growing boy.”

 

As it turned out, Steve was one hundred percent correct. Natasha bit into her cheeseburger when it came and she had little choice but to let out a groan of approval. “This is delicious,” she mumbled with her mouth half full. “Oh my God.”

“Right? I told you.” Steve ate just as happily as Natasha did; they hardly even spoke while they got through the first parts of their meals because they were just too busy enjoying themselves.

By the time Natasha was dipping her fries into the thick, chocolate milkshake in front of her, Steve was working on the last of his onion rings. “You know, there’s a lot of gossip about you at school,” she mused. “A lot of speculation.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve wiped his mouth and took another sip of his soda. “Like what?”

“Like… a lot of people think you’re gay, for one.”

Steve chuckled. “They’re so ready to call any guy who doesn’t date a lot ‘gay’ like it’s some kind of insult,” he said. “Next.”

“One of my friends said that her friend’s boyfriend’s friend told her that you’re packing a little more than one might expect, if you catch my drift.” Natasha gave him a daring look as she bit down on another fry-- and Steve choked on a bite of one of his last onion rings.

“Oh my God, do girls really talk about that stuff?” He looked horrified and his cheeks immediately flushed a bright shade of pink; Natasha actually felt for him, but she’d brought it up just so she could see his reaction and get to know him a little better.

“Are you kidding? Girls talk about  _ all _ the stuff you don’t want us to talk about.”

Steve made a face. “So nightmares are real.”

Natasha leaned forward a little bit and folded her arms on the table. “So, is it true?”

Steve’s cheeks became even more flushed and Natasha smiled widely. “I-- I mean-- I guess maybe a li--”

“I’m kidding!” She laughed. “I’m kidding, I swear.”

He visibly relaxed and shook his head at her while he took the last of his onion rings off his plate. “I was about to answer you,” he laughed, letting out a long breath. “Good thing you stopped me.”

Natasha grinned. “Damn, I should have let you keep going.”

At least he could take a joke. Steve didn’t seem particularly offended or angry that she’d brought it up, although it did take some time for the color on his cheeks to fade. It was sweet, really. Their pie came after that; warm, homemade apple pie with vanilla ice cream on top. Natasha bit into it and she fought to not let him know how delicious it was, but it seemed like he could see right through her.

"Amazing, right?" He took a big bite of his own and groaned out loud. "Mable over there?" He pointed towards the counter with his thumb and indicated the portly older woman sitting behind it with knitting needles in hand and glasses sitting near the tip of her nose. "She makes them fresh every day. Sometimes I come here just for the pie." 

Natasha nodded as she chewed another bite. "I hate to admit it, but you were so right," she sighed. "The food was amazing, but the pie. The pie is phenomenal."

When they were all finished, Natasha happily handed over half of the bill because he’d already paid for the games and everything-- he protested, but she insisted and he acquiesced as begrudgingly as he could while remaining polite and understanding at the same time.

 

They left together and Natasha was surprised to feel Steve taking her hand and holding it between them. It wasn’t like it was a daring move, but it was something so simple and innocent that Natasha actually found it kind of intimate as well. Maybe that was just because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d held hands with anyone this way. But even though it was strange, it wasn’t unpleasant at all. In fact, she only walked a little closer to him while they made their way down the street having ultimately decided to take the train back home.

Natasha kissed him for the first time when she finally asked him what stop he was getting off at and he admitted that he lived in Brooklyn-- he was just taking her home and making sure she got there safe and sound. They were still on the train and she normally hated public displays of affection, but this was an exception. Steve was coming all the way back into the city for her; if that wasn’t romantic these days, then what was?

That night, he texted her as soon as he got home and Natasha didn’t bother waiting to respond because she’d been waiting to hear from him and he knew it and she didn’t care.

After that first night together and several other dates, they made it official and went to school side by side with Steve’s letterman jacket on Natasha’s shoulders. It was old school and campy and strange for Natasha, but she couldn’t hide the smile that spread across her face as Steve’s arm tightened around her shoulders as he leaned down to kiss her hair. They were together; she’d taken the number one catch off the market for good.

Ages later, when she was asked about how she’d met Steve and when she realized she was going to stick with this one, Natasha would gleefully tell the story of how popular, handsome, sought after, quarterback Steve Rogers had taken her to Chuck E’ Cheese on their very first date… and how she fell for him anyway.


	12. Is This Kid Stupid or Something? (Stucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I catch you at the bus terminal shivering your ass off because it’s 30 degrees and for some godforsaken reason you’re wearing a short sleeve tshirt, so out of pity I lend you my hoodie and you look so surprised it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, setting aside the fact that you’re a goddamn idiot, do you want to get sick? AU

Sometimes stupidity got to Bucky the way nails on a chalkboard got to other people. He wasn’t the type to complain about every little thing, but there were times when he would notice something supremely ridiculous and he just had to say something about it—or suffer thinking about it for at least the rest of the day. Sometimes it was a car double parked next to an open spot or someone holding up the line at the grocery store while they argued over the expiration date on a coupon, but it wasn’t always a little thing like that. Bucky could distinctly remember watching a couple fight over sheets in a department store. He could definitely remember the kid he watched attempt to rob a convenience store with his hand in his pocket and no mask.

From what he could gather, the kid at the bus stop next to him was on the next level of stupidity. He had to be, right? Because he had to weigh all of 90 pounds and he was standing outside on the fucking street in a short sleeved shirt and jeans. His bony little elbows were shaking with the effort of trying to keep himself warm and based on the forecast (high of 14 whole degrees) he wasn’t going to get anywhere. It would be too cold on the bus too!

Bucky muttered to himself as he leaned back against the poster of some action hero in yet another generic action movie. The kid had a death wish; that was the only reasonable explanation. And yeah, Bucky could say something, but it was too cold and he refused to actually recognize the stupid right now.

That is, until the kid pulled out a fucking inhaler and took two shaky puffs.

Goddamnit.

Bucky glanced around to make sure they were alone and pulled his bag off, letting it hit the ground with a thump. Grumbling to himself all the while, he unzipped his jacket and pulled it off with some difficulty – he was wearing several layers, after all. He’d just begun to pull off the hoodie he was wearing when he noticed the kid watching him looking more curious than anything else. Fucking idiot.

Tugging it over his head, he shivered as the cold hit him hard and grabbed for his coat before he could do anything else. Once that was all zipped up again, he huffed and handed his hoodie to the kid beside him.

“Put this on.”   


The kid stared at him. “What?”

“Are you deaf too? Put this on.” He shook the hoodie for a moment and raised his eyebrows until the kid hesitantly reached out for the hoodie.

Apparently the point was made, because the kid slipped it on his skinny arms and zipped it up as far as he could. The sweater was at least three sizes too big, but at least he’d be a little warmed up. Hypothermia had to be a bitch to handle, right? And if the kid didn’t have a goddamn jacket, then he probably didn’t have the money for a doctor.

He probably didn’t have any money at all. Fuck.

Bucky swore under his breath again and dug into his pockets for a few bills, eventually pulling out a five and a ten he had crumpled up in his left pocket. It would have to do, because he didn’t actually think he had any more cash on him and he wasn’t going to stop at an ATM and risk missing the bus. 

“Here.”

The kid turned and stared at him again. “What’s that for?”

“You obviously need it more than I do, just take it.”

All of a sudden, the kid’s demeanor changed and his brows knit together in a frown. “I don’t need your money,” he said firmly. “Keep it.” Turning away, he hunched his shoulders and wrapped his arms around his chest despite attempts to make it look like he wasn’t freezing his ass off. 

Bucky huffed a little. “Wow, that’s a nice way to say thanks,” he mumbled.

“I’m not  _ saying _ thanks,” the kid argued. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Really? Because you’re not standing outside in a fucking tshirt in like thirty degree weather or anything.” He huffed again and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. “Fucking asshole.”

The kid rounded on him and stepped right up in his personal space. “Did I ask for your help?”

He had to be kidding. “What, so that means I’m not allowed to offer it?”

“It means that you don’t get to call me an asshole for not taking the help I don’t need and didn’t ask for!” Bucky had to give it to him; the kid looked like he was sticking to his guns and that was admirable in some kind of twisted, stupid way. 

“Fine,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Fine. Be that way.”

Thankfully, the bus arrived just a little over ten minutes later. With the snow and the ice and everything, most of them were running late and this was no exception. Bucky idly gestured for the kid to go first and followed suit, eventually settling down in one of the double seats in the back. He didn’t need his goddamn hoodie back either, not that a freezing kid was going to offer it to him in this weather. Whatever. He’d done his good deed for the day.

 

 

“Hey, punk. You’re in my seat.”

Bucky looked up to find a trio of menacing guys standing in a semi-circle in front of the single chair the kid from before had chosen to sit in. Well, this wasn’t going to end well. How could it? If the kid didn’t want to take innocent help from a stranger, he definitely wasn’t going to react well to a bunch of bullies trying to intimidate him.

“Looks like there are plenty of other seats.”

The biggest of the three guys took a step closer and sneered. “Get up before I hurt you.”

The kid rolled his eyes and Bucky very nearly cringed on his behalf. What was he trying to do? Those guys were double his size and then some!

“I was sitting here first,” he said. “So you can either go sit somewhere else, or you can start a fight over a goddamn seat.”

The guy rubbed his chin for a moment. “I think I’ll start a fight over a seat.”

The first punch that was thrown hit the kid so hard that Bucky was sure he heard something very important snap when it shouldn’t have. The second punch had him doubling over in pain and clutching his stomach, but the kid hit back. He was so small and his punches were practically bouncing off his attackers, but Bucky had to give it to him for spirit. Not many people his size would do anything other than take it and hope they didn’t get beaten too badly.

The second two of the guys held the kid back while the other landed yet another punch to his jaw, Bucky knew he had to step in. He was up and approaching in a heartbeat just so he could tap the main guy on the shoulder, turn him around, and deliver a solid right hook to his face. At this point, the bus driver had pulled over and was on his way to calling the cops, so Bucky made quick work of hitting the other two as hard as he could, grabbed the kid’s arm, and dragged him off the back of the bus so they weren’t there for any questioning.

Thankfully the kid didn’t fight him too much and eventually just forcefully pulled his arm away when they stopped under the awning of the bodega on the corner.

“I had them,” the kid insisted as he spat blood onto the ground. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

What. The. Fuck.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky asked. “Really? That guy was gonna take your head off. Or fuckin’—put you in the hospital or something! Are you some kind of fuckin’ masochist?”

He spat again and the blood washed away immediately in the rain just outside their little bit of semi-dry land. “Fine. Thanks, I guess.”

Bucky huffed and shook his head. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Do you have somewhere to go tonight?”

The kid tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, one of which was already starting to swell. “Um, home?”

Wait. “You mean you’re not homeless?”

Shit, that did not come out right. The kid’s cheeks flamed a little and Bucky kicked himself.

“No, I’m not homeless! Why do you care?”

“I don’t, I just--- wanted to make sure you had somewhere dry,” he reasoned. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s raining. If you’re not homeless, how come you’re out in this weather dressed like that?”

He shrugged. “Lost my jacket.”

Bucky frowned. “You lost your jacket?”

“Yep.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Nope.”

Unbelievable. “What’s your name?”

“What’s it to you?” Bucky gave him a look and the kid acquiesced with a sigh. “Steve. What’s yours?”

“Bucky.”

Steve made a face. “What kind of a name is Bucky?”

Bucky laughed out loud. Honestly, he’d gotten that question a thousand times and yet the way Steve asked it made him feel like he needed to figure out a better answer. “That’s classified,” he teased. “Are you hungry?”

“Why? Are you buying?”

“Depends. Are you actually gonna give me a chance?”

“A chance to do what?”

Bucky sighed again. “To get to know you,” he explained. “You mind?”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Oh.” For a second there, it looked like the idea that Bucky wanted to get to know him in a genuine way computed at all. “Okay, I guess.”

“Great! Is pizza okay?

 

Together, they walked another two blocks and right into a nice, warm pizza place and grabbed a table in the corner, as close to the ovens as they could possibly get. Bucky got Steve’s order – two slices of regular, one pepperoni – and headed up to the counter to order their food. When he returned, he placed their tray down and took a seat across from Steve even though he kind of wanted to hug the kid and keep him warm. He didn’t even know for sure if he was into guys… although the way Steve looked him over when he removed his jacket was pretty clear.

“So, here’s my question,” he said once he’d taken a big bite of his Sicilian slice. “What the fuck actually happened to your jacket? Because I don’t think I’ve ever actually lost a jacket.”

Steve paused to take a sip of his drink and met Bucky’s gaze. “Someone at school took it.”

Bucky slowly knitted his brows together. “Someone at school took your jacket.”

“Yeah.” He took another bite of his pizza. “Scarf too.”

So, he wasn’t just bullied on the bus. Apparently Steve was some kind of target at school too.

“Assholes,” he muttered under his breath.

Steve was quiet for a moment and nodded along with him. “Yeah.”

“Where do you go to school?”

 

As it turned out, Steve went to the same school that Bucky had graduated from the year before. It was kind of amazing that they’d never met- although Bucky supposed that with overcrowding and the sizes of each class, it was entirely possible that they’d never even passed each other. Besides, Steve was most likely a loner and Bucky had been very popular. It wasn’t that he would have been one of the bullies, but it was possibly that Bucky might not have… noticed him, mean as that might sound.

Steve loosened up after a few minutes and over their pizza and sodas, they talked about everything from movies to video games to dating (Steve hadn’t dated anyone at all and Bucky had played the field a lot). In the end, he was left with a feeling of comfort. Steve felt like the sweater he wore around the house; dependable, kind of a mess, and the coziest thing he owned—not that he wanted to own Steve or anything. He just felt really familiar somehow.

By the time they’d finished eating, Bucky was consciously aware of a few things. The first was that he definitely wanted to see Steve again and the second was that Steve might very well refuse him. He got the gay sort of vibe from him, but nothing had been confirmed. Besides, even if he was into guys, there was no guarantee that he was into guys like Bucky. The third thing was that he wasn’t actually sure if this kid was just the type of person who always had something bothering them or if he was the kind of person who was always in trouble. Or if he made the trouble himself.

Basically, he wanted to know more about Steve’s story before he tried to date the guy.

Before he got to ask anything else, Steve’s phone rang and he pulled out a flip phone. Bucky stared at it while Steve answered the call, said that he was busy and would call them right back, and closed the phone again. It landed on the table and Bucky just… Seriously?

“You—You have a flip phone.”

Steve blinked. “Yeah, and?”

Bucky thought briefly about the iPhone in his pocket and tried to remember the last time he’d seen a phone like the one sitting in front of Steve now. He was pretty sure it had been years and seeing one right now was more surreal than anything else. Why didn’t Steve have a normal phone like everyone else? Why had he left the house that morning in a tshirt and a jacket when it was sub zero outside?

“Where do you live?”

Steve was clearly surprised by the question and he frowned a little. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m just curious,” Bucky reasoned. “Can’t a guy be curious?”

“About where a total stranger lives? No, not really.”

“Jesus, if I was gonna murder you, I would have done it already.”

Steve’s gaze narrowed and Bucky rolled his eyes in response. 

“I’m in Midwood.”

“And I’m in Flatbush. So not too far,” he observed. “Y’know, if we wanted to see each other again.”

“Why would we want to do that?”

Jesus. “Because maybe we get along?”

Steve looked at him like he had just proposed robbing a bank or something equally as outlandish and dangerous. Had this guy never made a friend before? 

“Or not,” he mumbled. 

“I guess that’d be okay.” Steve shrugged two very thin shoulders, but the movement was practically rendered invisible by the sheer fact that Bucky’s sweater dwarfed him and then some. It was kind of… adorable. Bucky felt his stomach do this weird, fluttering thing that made him feel like a kid with some kind of crush. Unbelievable. Steve turning his big, blue eyes back up to Bucky didn’t make it any better either.

“Well, gee,” he answered teasingly. “Don’t be too excited.” 

Steve sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

Finally, a little humility! 

“You’re forgiven,” he answered. “So… maybe we could see a movie sometime? My treat.”

Steve was still trying to figure him out, Bucky could tell. 

“Is this a date?”

There was a lot of innocence there, but Bucky could also sense quite a bit of hesitation. It was almost as if Steve had been beaten up or teased for assuming such a thing in the past and honestly, Bucky wanted to find each and every one of those punks to give them a piece of his mind. Well, at least Bucky had a definitive answer-- Steve was into guys for sure. 

“Do you want it to be a date?”

Steve blinked. “I mean, kind of.”

Bucky grinned widely. “Then it’s a date.”


	13. Some Things Never Change (Captasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My contribution to @romanogersweek Smut Weekend. The prompt was 'high heels', and so I present...
> 
> Steve with a shoe fetish Natasha knows exactly how to exploit.

“I’ve got a surprise for you…”

 

Ominous words, coming from Natasha. She could be talking about something wonderful-- or she could be vaguely threatening him. In their 20+ years of being together, Steve had never been entirely sure and he figured she liked keeping him on his toes, which was definitely why she even dealt in surprises instead of just hinting at what was waiting for him at home. It definitely wasn’t because he liked surprises, because he most certainly did not.

In any case, the surprises were mostly good. He went home that day more than a little curious about what he might find there; the last time Natasha had led in with those words, he’d come home to a new cat just lazing around in  _ his _ chair. He hoped this time didn’t result in any more feline company.

“Hey, I’m home,” he called out as he hung his coat up. “Should I be bracing myself, or…?”

 

Steve’s question faded as he turned and found himself staring at Natasha striking a pose in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. She was wearing a new lingerie set-- Steve made it a point to be well aware of what kinds of stuff she was buying for his benefit since he knew for sure she’d be happier in his boxers and a big t-shirt. It was all in her signature black; the bra had a lace overlay and the panties she’d chosen to match were small enough that he could see the tattoo that sat low on her right side peeking out. But he knew that  _ she _ knew the lingerie wasn’t what would get him going; it was her shoes. 

He’d never understood how some women could walk around with heels that high and never even stumble. He was lucky if he didn’t trip over his own two feet, so he couldn’t imagine living his life in six inch heels-- but Natasha was one of those talented few and she was also keenly aware that a shoe fetish (a term Steve  _ never _ used) was definitely in play here.

 

Swallowing hard, he predictably followed the smooth line of her bare leg and inhaled sharply once he’d seen the true surprise of the evening. Natasha had clearly gotten a new pair because if there was anything he knew better than the lingerie, it was definitely her collection of shoes. She had everything from slippers to sneakers to sandals to stilettos and Steve was always just floored whenever they dressed up and she slipped on a pair of heels. It probably should have been enough that the shoes made her legs look even more delectable than usual (More often than not, he had his hands on her ass by the end of the evening, if he could wait that long.) but there was just something about the shoes themselves. Maybe it had something to do with the confidence they gave her or the way her hips swayed when she walked in them? 

Whatever it was, Steve practically worshiped at the altar of Natasha’s high heels. 

The pair she had on tonight was black, of course, with sky high heels and a rounded toe. Steve preferred those to the pointy shoes because he liked how streamlined and natural they looked as opposed to the others. They also had little straps that went over the top of her foot and around her ankles, probably for some kind of stability. He didn’t care what their function was, really. He just wanted to touch them.

Smirking knowingly, Natasha took in the sight of him frozen on the other side of the room and licked her lips as she adjusted her stance in the doorway. It was a damn good thing they’d known each other as long as they had because there was almost no shame for Steve in falling to his knees in front of Natasha and reaching out to touch her shoes with the tips of his fingers. He traced around the inner rim and up to the straps as he let out a shaky breath.

“Do you like them?” Natasha asked as she watched him. The answer was obvious, but he knew she’d want to hear it out loud anyway; she liked confirmation that she was doing the right thing. 

Steve let one hand wander up the side of her calf to her thigh while the other rested on the smooth material of her shoe. He nodded silently while he leaned down to get a better look and touched the thin heel in awe. 

Natasha lifted her leg and pressed the underside of her shoe against Steve’s shoulder. “I can’t hear you, Steve.”

Groaning quietly, Steve lifted his hand to trace over her ankle and looked up at her. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Yeah, I like them.” 

Finally, a smile. Natasha lowered her foot back down and turned to lead him into their bedroom. Since it was on the second floor of their home, he was able to follow like some kind of zombie and watch, spellbound, as Natasha took each and every step…

He only made it to the top of the stairs, at which point he surged forward and scooped her up to carry her the rest of the way to their bedroom-- it was just taking too long. Amused by his eagerness, Natasha laughed as she was laid down and immediately covered by 220 pounds of barely softening muscle with an eager mouth leaving breathless kisses over her collarbone. Knowing exactly what he liked, she quickly wrapped her legs around Steve’s waist and dug the heels of her shoes into his lower back, earning a deep groan and a pointed roll of his hips against her core.

They both knew he could come from this; Steve had always been eager and easy to please, but it was the wait that really got them both going. After all these years, Natasha also knew that he would take his time and lavish her in attention like she hadn’t tried to make the night all about him. She knew he would undress her -- except for the shoes, of course -- and kiss her thighs and bury his face between them until her heels were ripping holes in their sheets on either side of him or leaving little marks in the backs of his shoulders.

She also knew that if she flipped the script on him, he would get that dark look in his eyes like she was dangerous and sexy and all the things she used to be when she was young. There were friends of hers in the neighborhood that talked about the sex getting boring or their husbands losing interest-- it was never like that with Steve. He loved her more every day.

That wasn’t to say that they fucked like bunnies all the time. They both had careers and sometimes they were too tired or too overwhelmed or just didn’t feel like it. Sometimes the height of their intimacy was being on opposite sides of the sofa in sweats with a bucket of popcorn between them as they binged some show on Netflix. Sometimes they slept without facing each other. Sometimes ‘dinner’ was actually frozen pizza and wine after a bad day and no, they didn’t want to talk about it.

 

The point was that at this moment, while Steve’s familiar hands trailed down the outsides of her thighs, Natasha was happy. She wasn’t worried about the fact that she’d gained a couple of pounds since she was 18 and fresh faced and doing this with him for the first time. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever bother thinking about something like that; it wasn’t as though Steve was quite as defined as he had been and she couldn’t possibly bring herself to care. She loved him, even if he was a dork who was currently pressing kisses to the side of her shoe.

 

By the time he got his shirt and tie off, Natasha was bare and ready to go. She had plans tonight-- she wanted that dangerous feeling. So when Steve leaned down again, she pushed him over and quickly straddled him while she pressed down against his chest. Her shoes were consciously pressed against his thighs-- and there it was. Steve was looking at her like she was some kind of goddess and two decades in, she still wasn’t tired of it.

He let out a small, strangled sound as she pressed her heels against him a little tighter and Natasha smirked in triumph as she leaned down to kiss him at last. Steve surged up into her and took her waist in his hands, but he didn’t push her for more just yet. She wanted what she wanted- that was the way she’d always been -and he would know if she wanted him to take control. Tonight, she wanted to see him worship her on  _ her _ terms.

With all that said, she knew that scooting up and bracing herself on the headboard while she straddled his head was pretty much the best thing she could have done. From that position, he could feel her heels pressed into his sides  _ and _ eat her out like a champ, like he always did, at the same time. She’d said it before and she’d say it again: Steve liked going down on her even more than he loved fucking her. The guy was a complete perv, and all hers.

Throwing her head back, she rocked her hips down against his mouth while he licked at her, eagerly throwing himself into it like every drop of her juices was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Natasha’s lips parted as she groaned up to the ceiling and eventually threaded one hand into his hair to hold on. That kind of thing only drove Steve on; she could feel him moaning beneath her and angled her feet so her heels were probably going to leave bruises. It was a small reward for the fact that she was already shaking and came soon after, her thighs tightening up around his head as she struggled to come down from it all.

Steve got the upper hand while she was still in the throes of it and flipped them over again so he could kiss his way over her belly and up to her breasts. His lips were still shiny and red, and she pulled him in for a lazy kiss so he could slot himself neatly between her legs, right where he belonged. As he pressed into her, she pulled him into another kiss and wrapped her legs around his waist again so she could make full use of the shoes, which dug divots into his skin that would last at least the rest of the night, if not longer. She knew he’d touch them sometimes; she’d see him just reach back and sort of graze his finger over one or the other for a little reminder of what they’d done.

As he began to move, she only tightened her legs to give him more of what he wanted, her hands eventually finding their way to his biceps to squeeze hard there too. Steve had always had just a trace of a masochistic streak and she liked to exploit that when she could.

That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t enjoy it, because Natasha had loved every last time they’d had sex since the first time, even if that first time had been kind of sloppy. Steve was a force to be reckoned with at all times; he filled her like he never wanted her to think about another man and he was big enough to ensure that she was never even tempted. Suffice it to say that Steve had always sort of had the Mr. Perfect thing down pat, damn him.

And he always had her in mind, he really did. Eventually, he pushed himself back on his knees and lifted her legs up so her ankles were balanced on his shoulders while he continued to thrust into her. With that position, he could really admire her heels up close, touch them and kiss them and do whatever else he wanted to do until he was ready for the grand finale, as it were. Natasha let her arms fall to her sides and arched her back to make it a little easier for him, also improving the angle just enough to ensure her second orgasm of the evening.

From there, she was able to watch as Steve fell apart-- but he didn’t come. No, he stopped himself just shy of stumbling over the edge and stilled inside her. He shivered and a second later, he was descending upon her, pulling out a fraction of a second before his fingers slid into her instead. Natasha was immediately at his mercy, her mouth open in a silent plea for more as he urged her on and on until she came with a shuddering groan and grabbed his wrist to push him away before the spots in front of her eyes became a little too much to handle.

Steve took himself in hand immediately and while he rested his free hand on her thigh, he focused his whole being on her feet. It wasn’t a foot fetish, he’d made that  _ very  _ clear, but the way he surrendered himself to his little kink was a sight to be seen for Natasha. Still panting slightly, she watched as he slid his hand down and touched the smooth material of her heels and came hard, his lower lip firmly held between his teeth. He was still trembling slightly as he landed on his back beside her and smiled deliriously up at the ceiling.

 

“You made a mess,” she teased lightly, idly indicating the evidence of his release decorating her brand new shoes. 

Steve huffed. “Worth it. I’ll buy you new ones if I have to.”

Natasha smiled as she sat up to remove the shoes at last and set them down off to the side before rolling right back to him and allowing him to gather her into his arms as he always did. Steve had always,  _ always _ been a post coitus cuddler; Natasha had warmed to it over the years.

“I can clean them,” she said easily, patting his chest. “Good surprise?”

“Amazing surprise.” Steve sighed contentedly, but quieted down as his stomach roared in protest. “I’m thinking pizza tonight,” he added sheepishly. “And Game of Thrones?”

Natasha grinned into his shoulder. For not the first time, she reminded herself how lucky she was to have him. All those years of avoiding a relationship and she’d managed to find herself married to someone who understood her without even trying hard at all. And it was still wonderful all these years later, even with their personal mish-mosh of shoe fetishes and Netflix binges and takeout. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table.

“Usual order, coming right up.”

Forty minutes later, they found themselves exactly where they wanted to be. On the sofa with two large pizzas and two beers in front of them, Steve and Natasha sat beside one another and watched television with only the occasional comment between them. Once they were finished eating, Steve leaned back and Natasha sprawled out on top of him, which was exactly where she woke up hours later with Steve’s familiar snoring lulling her right back to sleep for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, I was thinking about doing a series of fics about Steve and Natasha, but when they're older? Thoughts?


	14. Survival of the Fittest (Captasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zombie AU

It was nothing like they said it would be in the movies. The zombies didn’t just appear, people didn’t get sick in droves, there was  _time_ for preparation. Natasha could remember the first time she’d seen a report on the news about the strange illness that was presenting with death-like symptoms and grotesque skin lesions; it had seemed so far away from where she was healthy and protected in a skyscraper in New York City. Surely some illness that was probably mutated or poorly treated in some developing country couldn’t touch her at home.

But as the days went on, there were more cases reported in that first country, then another, then another. The Virus was getting worse; those who were sick would decay to the point where they visually resembled a corpse-- and then continue ‘living’ in some sense of the word anyway. No one wanted to use it, but ‘zombie’ seemed like the most accurate word. Soon enough, the first case in London was reported on the 11 o’clock news and the UN made a drastic decision to halt all air traffic. With all planes grounded and people beginning to panic, local governments started to lightly suggest that those who were still healthy made provisions for themselves should the disease spread to the United States.

Some listened. Natasha had gone to the store and bought up as much canned food as she could, stockpiling a few first aid kits and a couple of cases of water so she was ready in the event that she had to remain indoors for an indeterminate length of time. But there were others who thought it was a stupid hoax, or that their distance from the initial outbreak would mean they were safe in the long run. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the way things happened.

The very first case in the United States was in Detroit. Once the sickness was identified, the whole city went on lockdown until they could be sure that it wasn’t spreading, but the damage had already been done. One by one, cities and eventually states fell to The Virus and people finally started to pay attention. There were stories of angry mobs pushing their way into hospitals thinking they would be safe there, and stories of people being killed at the first sign of illness whether it was confirmed to be The Virus or not.

The horror that came along with this now very nearby threat were the stories that those who were afflicted were likely to attack if you startled them. People were taking up arms, the news said. Guns were more prevalent than ever and violence as a whole was off the charts.

Natasha saw the writing on the wall and quit her job in favor of staying right where she was, in her apartment, safe.

The world pretty much went to shit after that. She watched the number of casualties get higher and higher as time went on; some people were confirmed dead, others were just missing. Either way, The Virus was spreading so fast that if they were out there, it would get them soon enough.

 

For six weeks, Natasha managed to stay safe and sound in her apartment. She lived off the canned food she’d bought, which she rationed as much as she could, and spent her downtime either watching the news or reading or just doing exercise so she was ready when the time came to actually go back out there. New York didn’t look like it used to; she could see from her window that the once lively streets were desolate and grey. Even on sunny mornings, there was an overwhelming darkness over everything and at least one or two walkers just wandering about looking for food or a cure or… something. They were dangerous, that much she knew.

It had started with what they thought was an airborne virus, but apparently changed into something like rabies; it was transmitted through a bite, not in the air. It was with that knowledge that Natasha was able to breathe just a little easier.

Two months in, Natasha realized that she had to get out there and move. There were rumors, mostly things she heard whispered in the halls between the handful of survivors around her, that the army was sweeping the city to evacuate anyone who might have survived thus far. But they wouldn’t continue forever. There were limited resources. If the survivors dwindled, they’d stop risking more lives to come in and look for more. Natasha figured her best bet was to make her way into one of the outer boroughs, maybe to the Brooklyn Navy Yard. If there was no way to get out with the army’s help, then at least she could probably find a less populated area to settle in for a while. Manhattan just wasn’t the way to go given just how many people lived there-- or  _had_ lived there.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but Natasha had never been the type to delay when something simply had to be done. She packed her necessities, dressed in jeans and layers, tied her hair back, armed herself with the pistol she kept in her closet and the knife she kept in her bedside table, and headed out. The city outside her door was almost unrecognizable. She knew the stores, but so many windows had been broken and she saw not one familiar face. All she hoped for right now was a calm trip into Brooklyn.

She opted for the Brooklyn Bridge to avoid spending any time in Queens, where the streets were too unfamiliar and too narrow for her to feel safe. Brooklyn had more options, she figured, and she had at least spent some time there in the recent past. She might be able to negotiate her way around. Besides, there were places in Brooklyn that felt like suburbs-- she could definitely find somewhere safe to stay if she played her cards right. The problem was that she didn’t know exactly how long she had to just hunker down and wait. What if this was life from now on?

Not that she had the time to actually think about things like that.

She traveled unhindered and unbothered through Bryant Park. It was still strange for there to be no sounds around her-- no children playing even though it was a sunny day, no one playing music, no shouting from the street. The city had never been so quiet and it was  _unnerving_.

It took her a very tense fifteen minutes to walk from her apartment to the intersection where she could stare up at the Empire State Building. It looked different now; monolithic, almost. With no tourists taking pictures and no tour buses stopping by and no business people rushing about, the place was practically deserted.

Practically.

 

Standing on the other side of the intersection was a walker who looked very intent upon coming after Natasha for its next meal. Natasha put her back against a wall and tried to stay quiet in the hopes that he would change direction and leave her be, but it was already heading her way. The creaking, groaning, choking sound it made as it came closer only heightened her fear, but what else could she do? She couldn’t outrun the thing and still make it a safe distance away without bumping into another one or even attracting a few with heavy footsteps like that.

She'd have to kill it.

Stepping out, she took her knife in hand and braced herself for a moment before carefully moving around the thing and towards its back. It wasn’t moving very fast anyway, so she was able to touch the thing’s shoulder and drive the knife into the back of its skull. It fell and hit the ground with a sick sound that made bile rise in Natasha’s throat. So that was how it felt to kill something, even if that thing wasn’t really a person. Natasha used a strip of fabric she’d tied around her waist to wipe her blade and moved on, seeking shelter in the narrow alleyways on the other side of the main street.

At least that walker had been alone. Natasha couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find a group of them, but that was exactly what she found when she made the mistake of cutting through Madison Square Park. The 23rd Street station was right at the far side and to her horror, there were walkers pouring out of it at a rate that screamed ‘danger’. She had to get out of there before--

They saw her. Natasha pulled her knife immediately and made quick work of the two out in front, but she knew she was at a disadvantage here. They were coming quick and it just wasn’t realistic to think that she could kill them all fast enough that the ones still coming couldn’t overtake her. She stabbed and slashed and did what she could, but she wasn’t a warrior. She wasn’t strong enough for any of this.

With more than twenty walkers coming at her, she made the somewhat ill-fated decision to run. It was more than enough noise to entice them, which meant that by the time she found herself at the lobby to some fancy-schmancy hotel, they were on her heels and ready to grab her. Natasha slipped inside and managed to lock the doors, but the walkers behind her piled up against the glass until she could see clear cracks forming-- she had to get out of there. And since there was no way to know whether or not there were other walkers in the hotel itself, she had to explore with caution.

She elected to take the stairs. Getting stuck in an elevator at this point was nothing more than a death sentence. Three flights up, she wandered into the hallway and glanced both ways before venturing to the left in search of safety. She was struck again by the fact that she was entirely alone; it felt like there was not another  _living_ soul in this place. Three more flights and she was wandering down an identical hallway when she heard a distinct banging sound coming from the far end. Frowning to herself, she readied her knife and quietly made her way towards it.

It might not have been wise, but if  _something_ was in the hotel with her, she had to know.

Eventually, she located a small utility closet that was shaking as something pressed up against the inside. The movements were too insistent and too wooden to be anything else but a walker, so Natasha braced herself and opened the door as she jumped to the side. Out came what presumably used to be a guest of the hotel. It was still wearing the remains of a silk robe with wisps of blonde hair sticking to its skull. Natasha killed it before she could keep thinking about what it used to be and carefully plucked the white key card from the pocket of the thing’s robe just in case she couldn’t pick the lock of a room for herself.

Continuing up, she found nothing else until she arrived on the thirtieth floor and heard what sounded like groaning coming from the door right beside the stairs.

Staff room. Natasha pressed her ear against it and frowned. There had to be at least three or four of them in there, all trying their best to get out. A quick examination of the handle revealed that it was locked; someone must have sealed it when all this started. It was a cruel way to die.

Tired as she was, Natasha forced herself up another five floors and finally deemed herself safe enough to choose a room. She’d boarded up the doors that led to the stairs with wood from desks and end tables she’d deemed strong enough to be of use and found a room with the door left ajar. With the door locked behind her, she was safe and slipped right into the big, fluffy bed to sleep.

 

The next day, after something like 15 hours of rest, Natasha decided to explore her current floor and find everything she needed. This was a five star hotel; they had to have plenty of toiletries and the like laying around for the guests. Sure enough, she found a supply closet and stocked up on soap, shampoo, toothpaste, razors, and anything else she could carry. Coming back to her room meant that she could strip down and step into a (admittedly lukewarm) shower and just stand there while the water washed away weeks of dirt and grime and sweat and tears.

Freshly bathed and wrapped in a fluffy robe, Natasha finally ventured out to the balcony and looked down. Thirty five floors up, the city  _almost_ looked normal. One could almost mistake the moving pieces on the ground for actual people instead of the monsters they were.

She gave herself three days to re-energize before making her way up the next fifteen floors to the penthouse and, once she’d left her things in her room, the roof. But there were no helicopters to be seen, no sign of any efforts by the army to get people out. She waited the majority of two days on that roof and there was  _no one_ other than what looked like a single private plane flying way too far to the left to see her. She waved her arms anyway, but there was no point.

Two weeks in, Natasha knew she was one of the lucky ones. She’d managed to find herself a spot where there was food in the form of the vending machines and some canned goods in the kitchen, and there was plenty of soap and water to bathe. She even had a soft bed to sleep in, as she’d nabbed the presidential suite on the top floor. But it wouldn’t last. Walkers were pushing at the doors on the bottom every day; she’d ventured down more than once to see them with their scarred, broken faces swarming at the glass doors keeping her safe. They wouldn’t hold forever and she had to be ready to leave whenever they finally broke.

It took exactly two weeks and four days for them to break in. The minute the glass broke downstairs, Natasha was out of bed and grabbing her bag to get the hell out of there. Thanks to the security cameras she’d rewired, she had plenty of advance notice. She’d managed to arm herself with a couple of sharp knives and a nightstick, but she was loathe to use the pistol stuffed into the side of her bag. It would attract them, surely. Loud noises tended to get their attention more than anything else.

Having already formed a plan, she sought out the (thoroughly tested) employee elevator and took it all the way down to the basement so she could use the employee entrance to get out. That hotel was taken now; it would take more than just one person to fight through the horde of walkers making their way through it. Unfortunately, finding another shelter was not as simple as Natasha had hoped. She still had food in her bag and as many toiletries as she dared to carry, but it felt like the rest of the city was overrun.

Every store she passed was either empty or crawling with walkers, every restaurant was useless this long after the Virus had begun, and there were no  _humans_ anywhere! Where had they all gone? Was this Natasha’s punishment for being so isolated before this all happened?

Walking down Broadway wasn’t anything like it used to be. The lights were all out; the whole city felt dead and dark even as the sun began to rise. She kept walking and stayed close to the buildings, keeping her eye out for anything moving on the street. The walkers weren’t exactly subtle, so she was confident that she’d be able to spot one before it got too close to her and hopefully take it by surprise. She hadn’t pulled her gun yet, but she was close. It took a lot less effort than it did to penetrate their skulls with a knife or bash it in with her nightstick.

By the time she hit Union Square, she’d killed seven walkers and her arm was throbbing from the effort of it all. She wanted to find somewhere to stop for the night, but it seemed like there weren’t any options that didn’t churn her stomach in a bad way. She had to go with her gut here and so, she glanced around to make sure there weren’t any walkers to be seen-- at least for now --and bashed in one of the windows of the Barnes and Noble nearby. The sound was deafening in the silence around her and Natasha wondered if it had been a bad decision, but the warmth provided by the inside of the store and the fact that she was able to push a few things in front of the window in order to make sure she was secure for the moment relaxed her a little bit. She immediately wandered upstairs to where it was warm and quiet, but she didn’t find the same comfort there that she once had.

Maybe that was because it was almost  _too_ quiet. Maybe it was because she felt like she hadn’t spoken to anyone in… Had it really been almost three months? Standing by the window, she could see the walkers already swarming the area and she knew she wasn’t really safe. That noise had attracted more than she was entirely ready to face and there was nothing she could do about that other than hope they got impatient and left. Of course, Natasha had never been the type to hope without reason-- and she had no reason to think they would leave.

She hadn’t even settled in by the time they broke through her makeshift barrier and wandered into the store. This time, Natasha didn’t have a plan. All she could do was grab her things and head towards the front door-- but she couldn’t get through. They were everywhere, clawing at her and nearly biting and it was enough to make her pull her gun and start shooting as she ran out the front doors and into the park across the street.

 

From where she hid in the greenery of Union Square Park, she could see more coming. They went towards the sound, not towards her current location, and they swarmed there. Natasha wished she had a grenade or something-- she could take a bunch of them out at one time.

Sans grenade, all she could do was watch them gather in the bookstore and search for the food that was no longer there. The whole thing was disgusting; everything from the smell of dead flesh to the sick, wet sounds they made. Natasha only stayed a few more minutes before heading through Union Square Park. She’d escaped, but it was getting dark.

Most of the lights in the park were dim or completely out, so Natasha grabbed her flashlight and peered through the darkness as much as she could. At this point, the light might attract some, but she’d rather see them coming than not see them at all. As she made her way towards the now defunct holiday market at the end of the park, she came across one or two who dared venture up to her and both were taken out with her knife as usual. In the market itself, she glanced around for any signs of ‘life’, whatever that meant, and chose one of the booths that had been selling plushies to settle down for the night.

Instead of opening the little door at the back and risking its integrity, she hopped over the counter and began considering what she had to work with in order to make herself comfortable.

She was considering the big plush bears hanging over the booth when a hand reached out and grabbed her ankle from underneath the counter. She went down immediately and began struggling as the walker clawed at her leg in an effort to pull her closer. All of a sudden, desperation set in and Natasha began hacking at the walker’s arm to get it off her, taking chunks of skin and muscle and eventually bone off until she was able to get away. The thing was still trying to drag itself after her and Natasha panicked, pulling her knife so she could plunge it into the thing’s eye socket and kill it once and for all.

In the aftermath, while she dragged the remains of her latest kill out of the booth, she thought about how her life had come to this point. She supposed it all had to do with The Virus, but maybe it was more than that. Natasha had isolated herself to the point where she didn’t have a single other person to talk to during this whole thing.

Well. She did have one person, but he’d never answered. In the back of her mind, she just hoped Clint and his family were okay because if they weren’t… she honestly wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. It would be too much of a distraction right now.

Hunkering down in the stall was easy after that. Natasha gathered as many plush toys as she could and piled them up so she had something soft to sleep on, pulled one of the ratty bits of fabric underneath the counter over her for warmth, and tried to rest. There were  _sounds_ outside the booth, so she kept her knife at the ready just in case a walker managed to make its way over the counter, but none did. She got a couple of fitful hours of rest before the sun rose and a new day began.

Unfortunately, most of the walkers were still outside the booth. For a while, Natasha stood there, out of arm’s reach, and glared at them. She knew it wasn’t their fault, but that didn’t matter. She had so much anger just building up inside her and she had no  _outlet_ \--- Or did she?

Natasha picked up her nightstick and weighed it in her hand for a moment. There were six walkers milling about on the other side of the counter. She could take them. She could.

And she did. Natasha didn’t know where the inner strength came from, but she bashed in the head of every walker threatening her safety and hit them a few more times just to be sure. At the end of it, she was covered in blood and panting heavily at the ground in front of her- and the pieces of the now macerated corpses she’d struck down. So this was who she was now.

Later that day, she found herself standing outside the School of the Arts at NYU and patiently tried exactly three doors until she got inside. She dispatched three walkers who looked strangely like college students and found her way to the dance studio, which was abandoned save for a muffled groaning on the other side of a closet door. And against her better judgement, Natasha set her things down and plucked a record off the shelf without even knowing if the player would actually work. In the complete silence that had been suffocating her for days, soft music began to play and Natasha’s whole body relaxed.

She closed her eyes and twirled around, completely losing herself to the music and the familiarity of her movements. It was rote, it was something she  _knew_ better than herself. And it was something that transcended all the terrible things that had happened to the world recently.

 

She stayed there quite some time, until the food she had was nearly running out. Just as the sun was setting one evening, she headed down Broadway a little further and made a quick decision to seek out refuge at St. Patrick’s. Surely if there were some survivors, they were probably also inside the church as it was something of a fortress. The doors were definitely sturdy enough to keep the walkers out. But approaching the church itself was more of a hazard that Natasha had anticipated. She was alone one minute and surrounded by other people the next. If she hadn’t been so aware that she had several large guns pointed at her, she might have just been happy to see other human beings.

“State your business.”

Natasha frowned. “What’s it look like? I’m looking for shelter for the night.”

“Are you armed?”

Was this guy kidding? Natasha rolled her eyes and indicated the knife and nightstick hanging from her belt. “Of course I’m armed. Do I look stupid?”

Slowly, the guns were lowered just a little bit and the man who’d spoken before came forward. “You don’t look stupid, honey. I bet we could come to an arrangement about tonight.”

Natasha’s stomach immediately knotted. So this was what disaster did to people; she had hoped they’d rise above, but apparently not. “And who might you be?”

“Lester,” he said with a skeevy smile. “But everyone ‘round here calls me ‘Bullseye’.”

“Well,  _Lester_ ,” Natasha said smoothly. “I’d rather sleep next to a walker than sleep next to you. So either let me stay in the church until morning  _on my own_ , or I’ll just be on my way.”

He soured immediately. Lester’s big hand clamped down on Natasha’s upper arm and she hissed as he pulled her closer. “I should tie you to a pole and let them have you,” he growled. “You’d be lucky to stay with us. You’d be lucky to stay with  _me_.”

Natasha glanced around at the others-- there were a couple of women and a few more men, but none looked particularly offended by what Lester was doing at the moment. He was clearly in some kind of leader position, but why? What did he have on them?

“I said I’d be on my way,” she repeated, tugging at his ironclad hold on her arm.

“I think I’ll keep you here.”

It didn’t take nearly as much effort as she would have liked for Lester to pull her past the barricades and into the church. Inside, the pews had been moved to make way for what looked like a tent city for the homeless-- there were cots and blankets and  _food_. Natasha’s mouth watered just from the smell of whatever canned something or other someone was making off in the corner. But she wasn’t offered food; that would mean her hosts actually gave a shit about her. Instead, she was plopped down on a heavy metal cot and handcuffed (they must have had an officer around somewhere) to the frame.

“You can’t actually think this is going to get you anywhere,” she deadpanned.

Lester leaned in real close, to the point where Natasha could practically feel his stubble against her cheek. “It’s going to get me everywhere. See you tonight, honey.”

Natasha rolled her eyes again and laid down on the bed with her hand still cuffed to the frame over her head. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but then neither was sleeping on a pile of old, cold stuffed animals with walkers just a couple of feet away. At least she was warm and safe, and there was a good chance she’d be able to get some food on the way out.

For now, however, she was going to rest.

 

Natasha woke up to Lester sitting on the bed beside her with his hand on her stomach and a creepy smile on his face. She grimaced and wiggled a little bit to get him off her.

“Aw, come on. And here I was coming to give you something to eat.”

All of a sudden, her attention was brought to the tray he’d set down on the bed. There was an unopened bottle of water, a piece of bread, and a bowl of what looked like vegetable soup. It smelled absolutely heavenly, but if he honestly thought it was going to get her to open her legs for him, he was dead wrong.

Natasha gave him a look. “Thanks,” she said graciously. “Think I can have my hand back so I can eat?”

Lester chuckled and pulled back so he could unlock the handcuff and give her a little freedom. Natasha rubbed her wrist as she sat up and accepted the food all while trying not to look too eager for it-- even though she definitely was. She was starving and it had been so long since she’d last had a decent meal; this didn’t exactly make her feel warm inside like going over to Clint’s for Sunday dinner, but it was good enough.

And then the nonsense started.

Suffice it to say that Natasha could at least defend herself, so when Lester did something a little uncouth, she reacted by shoving her knee into his groin as hard as she could, punching him hard in the face, and bolting away from him. She got away with a twisted ankle and a nasty wound from a bullet grazing her upper arm; honestly, it could have been a lot worse given the whole tone in that place.

And despite her injuries, she struggled down Centre Street until she reached the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge, where she found a place to collapse for just a moment. She’d managed to avoid most of the walkers on the way, only taking out one or two in her frustration and anger.

 

The best word she could think of to describe the bridge the next morning amidst foggy weather and grey skies was ‘haunting’. She walked as far to the right as possible while walkers wondered this way and that, but most of them couldn’t get over the gate to present much of a problem to her. She threw three into the icy water below them and walked as fast as she could in the hopes that Brooklyn would bring less crowded streets and a more secure option for shelter-- hopefully one that didn’t include some creepy guy trying to sleep with her.

But by the time she arrived at the Brooklyn Navy Yard at last, the sun was going down and it looked deserted. ...Actually, it looked a little  _too_ deserted. There weren’t any walkers.

Peering around carefully, she slipped into a narrow opening in the gate and made her way into one of the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of the property. She’d spend the night there, then make her way towards the water and attempt to find a boat she might be able to commandeer, not that she had much experience with sailing. She’d figure it out like she figured everything else out.

Locked away in some dark corner of the building she’d chosen, Natasha began to think about what her next steps would be if the boat option didn’t work out. Death was all around her. Apparently the survivors were apt to a state of lawlessness thanks to the current state of the world and it wasn’t exactly a place she wanted to be. She didn’t like not knowing what to expect from the world, even though the world had surprised her more than once in the recent past.

The next day, she decided to stay right where she was because she was safe. She hadn’t heard a single walker nearby and no one had attempted to get into her little shack, so she’d be crazy to complain. Besides, it was getting cold out there. She wouldn’t survive sleeping on the streets at this point; she couldn’t risk that. A quick look out the window told her that it was snowing as well. No, she had to stay. She had to hunker down here and hope that the food and water she had on her would last.

It turned out to be a good call, because the light dusting turned into a real blizzard and the snow began to form large piles all around her. Natasha searched until she found an old blanket to wrap around her shoulders and made the best fire she could given the circumstances, but she was still cold. It had to be below freezing and there was no insulation in the building she’d chosen, which had probably been a garage or something like that.

The snow lasted for twelve hours and even when it stopped, the temperature remained frigid and unforgiving. This might be it for her; trapped inside because outside was dangerous because of the elements, not the walkers. She was going to die of hypothermia or frostbite or…well, something a lot worse.

 

Late one night, Natasha was awoken by the distinct creak of the large door opening. Her fire was still smoldering beside her, so her position was given away, and she immediately had a knife in her hand. Even if it wasn’t a walker, it was  _someone_. As she’d learned, other survivors could be as much of a danger as the zombies themselves.

“Hello?”

Natasha frowned. If this guy was looking to harm her, he wasn’t very good at the subtle thing.

“Hey, I know someone’s in here. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Knitting her brows together, she crept out from her hiding space with her knife still in hand and hidden just behind her. The man in question was bundled up in a thick jacket and a scarf. He looked big and warm and Natasha shivered just thinking about burying herself in a jacket like that one.

“What do you want?” She asked as she came into view. “Don’t come any closer.”

The guy put his hands up to show that he wasn’t armed. “I’m just-- I was just coming to see who was staying here. It’s getting cold out. I figured I might be able to help.”

Natasha wasn’t sure if he could trust him, but the way he spoke told her that he wasn’t lying to get her closer to him. Maybe he did want to help.

“I’m cold,” she said slowly. “Do you have another jacket like that one?”

The man smiled a little bit and unzipped his jacket so he could hold it out for her without question. “I run warm,” he assured her. “And my name’s Steve. What’s yours?”

“Natasha,” she answered as she moved closer and quickly grabbed the garment. She wasn’t nearly sure enough of her own fate right now to refuse a gift like that one.

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “You’re the first survivor I’ve met,” he said. “Sorry, I feel like I’m staring. I’m just so glad to see someone else with a heart beat.”

The coat was  _so_ warm. Natasha wrapped it around herself and huddled in, briefly glancing back towards the pathetic fire she had going. She had been so cold for so long that it felt like she’d never be warm enough again. Considering the man in front of her a second time, Natasha pressed her lips together for a moment and tried to ignore that they were chapped and dry.

“I’ve got a better way we can both stay warm.”

Steve blinked. “Oh, we don’t have to-- I mean, I’m fine, I’ll just--”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Just come over here and lay with me,” she said. Her voice was still trembling just a little bit thanks to the cold. It would just be easier if he lent her his body heat for a while. “What? You don’t find nearly blue skin and dry lips appealing?”

Steve huffed out a laugh and for the first time in ages and ages, Natasha really smiled. Together, they headed over to where she’d been sleeping and Steve laid down, awkwardly opening his arms to her. Body heat  _was_ the way to go, but it hadn’t actually skipped Natasha’s notice that Steve was one handsome stranger.

She got down on the floor and gave him a look before turning around and putting her back to his big, broad, warm chest. Steve went ahead and apologized before putting his arm around her waist for additional warmth. It was heaven as far as Natasha was concerned, even if he was a complete stranger. He seemed genuine and sweet-- and to be honest, she was really happy to just have some company. The solo life hadn’t been great so far when she didn’t even have people to talk to at work.

“So, how long have you been on your own?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “About six weeks. I, uh… I lost my best friend and it’s been just me ever since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It wasn’t hard to empathize with him over that. For all she knew, Clint was laying in a ditch somewhere, or wandering aimlessly with a horde of walkers. “But you’re staying here?”

“Yeah, over in the main building. I figured it was the safest place to be.”

“Until this whole thing blows over?”

“Until…” He sighed. “I don’t know, really. I keep thinking about what will happen if it  _doesn’t_ blow over. I mean, I’ve heard there are other survivors, but---”

“You’ve heard?” Natasha frowned. “How?”

“I’ve got a radio set up. Can’t seem to make contact on my end, but I can hear other people. So there are others. They’re even talking about how some people might be immune.”

So there were other survivors out there, somewhere. Natasha found herself feeling hopeful for just a second. Maybe Steve came with more than just good news- maybe he was a sign of good things to come.

When the sun came out, they made a break for the main building so they had access to the food and water and other supplies that Steve had there. He said he had training in this sort of thing, just surviving on very little and finding his own food. Natasha didn’t question him, especially when he presented her with an actual box of snack cakes. She hadn’t had anything sweet in a long time, so she devoured two on the spot and groaned just because  _chocolate_.

 

Weeks passed.

 

Steve and Natasha found an easy rhythm with one another. The cold didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon, so they did what they could to insulate themselves and block out the frigid air. Steve would go out every morning and see if there was anything to scavenge in the vicinity of the Navy Yard while Natasha prepared a sad breakfast, and then most afternoons were spent either playing chess or reading (and re-reading) the few books lying around.

One of Natasha’s favorite pastimes, however, was watching Steve work out. The guy had boundless energy, or so it seemed, and he’d drop to the floor and do push ups until he was actually sweating despite how cold it was all the time. Natasha liked to imagine cuddling up with him right after that, while his skin was still hot to the touch and his eyes were bluer than ever.

Obviously it was a stupid thing to even consider what she was thinking about for so many reasons-- the risk of pregnancy had never been more of an actual risk, for one. But it had been nearly two months since they’d met and they were sharing more casual touches every day. They still spooned at night and Natasha found herself burying her face in Steve’s neck more often than not by the time they woke up. She’d listen to his heartbeat for a few seconds before moving just because she liked the reminder that he was  _alive_.

“Listen, we need to talk about what our next steps should be.”

Steve spoke up while they were eating ‘lunch’ in the form of canned vegetables and crackers he’d taken from a store a few blocks away. Natasha knew they couldn’t stay there forever, but who was she kidding? This was the best set-up she’d had and she was hesitant about moving on. Besides, what if Steve didn’t want to stick with her?

“I figured we could move into South Brooklyn,” he continued. “It’s way less populated there and we wouldn’t have to deal with the fences and quite so many barriers, you know? We could be a little less on edge. I think it’s our best bet.” He took another bite of his food. “Besides, the snow is melting little by little. We should head out before another storm hits.”

“South Brooklyn,” she repeated. “And you’re sure about this?”

Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. It feels right.”

Natasha wasn’t entirely certain whether or not she was supposed to trust him, but she did. She trusted him entirely and felt that he would make a good decision for the both of them, which was something she didn’t even bother attempting to rectify in her own head.

And so, she agreed and they set out for the other end of Brooklyn just two days later, once they’d packed up the necessities. Traveling with Steve was definitely different than traveling alone. For one thing, he was armed. He had a couple of pistols as well as a bat and an axe that he proudly handed over to Natasha so she could protect herself as well. They watched each other’s backs as they walked to Prospect Park and headed through in the hopes that the larger spaces would mean less walkers to deal with.

 

But as they headed into Flatbush a couple of days later, things changed. Brooklyn was densely populated just like Manhattan; it was understood that they would eventually run into a neighborhood that was more difficult to get through. It just wasn’t understood that they wouldn’t be entirely ready for it. They weren’t. Oh, they definitely weren’t ready for it.

All of a sudden, they were taking out walkers left and right, slashing and beating and even shooting a few because they couldn’t avoid it. They made their way down the main avenue as quickly as possible, moving from Flatbush to a less populated area further south. Steve said there was a mall near the highway that they could probably find shelter in before they headed even further into the practically suburban area nearby, so they headed that way and used the parking lot entrances to get into the mall itself.

There were walkers  _everywhere_.

Natasha could see them gathered behind the gates of some of the stores where people tried to keep themselves safe. She could see them milling about the mall itself, clearly unable to find their way out. As they neared the staircase and glanced down, she could see masses of them gathered on the first floor and a chill went down her spine.

“We have to leave.”

Steve nodded and they turned to run, but there were already walkers gathering in front of the entrance they’d used thanks to a nearby department store that had been housing them just moments earlier. They didn’t have much of a choice other than to fight their way through and hopefully come out unharmed on the other side. Natasha began swinging the bat at the walkers near her while Steve went at them with one of the thick knives he kept hanging on his belt. It was a losing battle, they were being swarmed and clawed at and pushed and pulled and--

All of a sudden, Steve was  _down_. Natasha felt panic rise in her chest and she immediately went towards him, knocking off a few walkers before she pulled a knife and stabbed the walker on top of him right in the head. There was blood everywhere, but she pulled him up and they bolted for the door, shoving walkers aside as they went.

There was silence between them all the way out of the parking garage, but their battle didn’t stop there. Outside the mall itself, there were lines and lines of cars stopped on a smaller sidestreet and inside them, walkers clawing desperately at the windows. So. These were the people trying to leave before it got worse. They’d been stuck there since it started.

Natasha approached the car and moved to bash in the window, but Steve’s hand caught the tip of the bat.

“Don’t.”

Natasha frowned. “Why not?”

“They were people once too. Doesn’t seem right to kill them unless you have to.”

Lowering her bat, Natasha stared at Steve in disbelief. They weren’t people anymore. They were just--- monsters. If they left them alive, they’d kill anyone they could if they got out. They had a right to kill them and keep the world as safe as possible, didn’t they?

But Steve reached out to touch her arm and Natasha just stayed quiet. What a gentle soul. She wondered what he would do or how he would react if he knew that she’d killed any she happened to come across whether they were an immediate danger or not.

“Come on, we’re pretty close,” he said warmly.

Natasha smiled, but all of a sudden a walker came up behind Steve and grabbed him, pulling him back and opening its rotten jaw to take a bite. Steve cried out and struggled, but he was only able to dislodge the walker at first. The same walker rebounded and grabbed Steve from the front, holding onto his shirt and snapping his teeth--

Until Natasha came up behind it and decapitated the damn thing with a single swing of her axe.

As the body fell, Steve stared at it and Natasha stared at Steve.

 

“Let’s find a place,” she said decidedly.

They walked in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few blocks until they landed in an area that felt as ‘small-town’ as Brooklyn possibly could. With tree-lined blocks and no life to speak of, it felt like… home. But Natasha had a mission here, so she chose a street off to the side and crouched down to pick the lock on the door. Steve didn’t comment.

Once they got inside, she locked the door and they did a quick sweep. Like most homes in the area, it was abandoned and entirely empty. The kitchen was stocked, though, so they would have plenty for a while. Back in the living room, Steve dropped his bag and let out a long sigh.

“This is good,” he said. “Looks like we’ll be safe here for awhi-”

Natasha cut him off with both arms tight around his neck and her lips against his. Enough of this. Enough. She had to stand on her toes to reach him, but it was worth it to have his warmth around her, especially as he wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. She refused to actually let him speak at this point. Natasha deepened their kiss to the point where it felt like she was trying to soak up a little bit of his soul and Steve (thankfully) moved back until he could land with a huff on the sofa behind them.

Straddling his lap with ease, Natasha began removing articles of clothing with their lips still together. Her jacket went, then the sweater she had on underneath. Leaning backwards, she let Steve kiss her neck while she pulled her boots off and tossed them aside, then kissed along his neck in turn while she unbuttoned her next shirt. Steve only took control after that, flipping them over and removing his own layers while he sucked on her bottom lip.

It was eager, she wasn’t going to lie. The whole thing felt so fast and desperate that Natasha seriously thought she wasn’t going to have enough time to admire his body. She’d seen enough to know that she wanted to spend time touching him, maybe even biting his abs or resting her hands on his stomach while she rode him. Sue her, right? She was only human.

But this wasn’t about lust and it wasn’t about desire and it wasn’t about anything other than the fact that they were alive, Steve was  _alive_ and they were together. That was all that mattered right now. By the time he got his clothes off, Natasha had wriggled out of all her layers and pulled off the bra she’d been wearing for way too long now. She wasn’t going to lie about that either; they were both washed, but there was still some unpleasantness that came with wearing the same clothes, washed or not, for days on end.

It didn’t seem that either of them cared. When her bare chest was finally pressed against his, Natasha let out an audible groan and found his lips again, biting down on his lower lip to drag him closer while her hands worked on his jeans. The idea that they might have to stop for lack of a condom wasn’t even something she could fathom right now, meaning that she shoved his jeans down and got hers off enough that they hung uselessly from one leg. Her intention was too clear to be mistaken and Steve followed her cues without question.

Natasha arched her back as he pressed into her at last, rocking his hips hard in tight movements that were neither measured nor hindered by anything as pedestrian as polite manners or the like. It was messy and kind of rough, but so, so good. Natasha wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world at the moment, not after so many weeks of wanting him-- which followed weeks and weeks of extremely minimal human contact.

“Come on,” she urged him. “Come on, harder.”

Steve grunted as he tried to obey her, eventually slamming in and rolling his hips while he was buried deep inside her. Natasha cried out immediately and as her nails dug into the meat of his shoulders, she tried her best to rock her hips against him in turn. It was pure bliss, just the best thing she’d felt in a long time, probably even longer than she’d been traveling the city on her own.

His hand came down to hold her hip and Natasha hiked that leg around his waist as he continued to move, his thrusts going from long and deep and pointed to the kind of frenzied movements that told her he was going to come. She didn’t care. She couldn’t even begin to care that he was going to come inside her because she wanted to feel him. She wanted to feel every drop, every little twitch of his cock, every inch of him as he crested that peak and came down from it.

Steve came with a strangled sound he hid in the curve of her neck. Natasha petted his hair as his hips twitched and he empted himself inside her, his arms moving to encircle her waist entirely. He was still panting as he dragged his lips over her breasts and back up to her lips, where he bestowed upon her a series of soft, sweet kisses she didn’t ever want to stop.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Wow.”

Natasha’s eyes were closed and she smiled widely even as Steve let his head fall to her shoulders again. She hadn’t  _actually_ finished, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that either. It felt so unbelievably satisfying just to have a warm body on top of her.

Steve pulled out, but remained close and let Natasha trace over the muscles on his chest for a while. The house was quiet other than their shared breathing and she quite liked it if only because it felt semi-normal. But if she was being honest, she knew that she liked Steve more than she should have. They’d spent too much time together for her to deny it.

“So, where did that come from?” He asked eventually.

Natasha shrugged and laid her hand flat on his chest, just over his heart. “It was a long time coming,” she admitted. “At least on my end.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, mine too,” he said quickly.

Comfortable silence fell between them.

“You didn’t--”

“That’s okay.”

Steve gave her a dubious look. “It’s never  _really_ okay,” he said firmly. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him and smiled. “You wanna do something about it?”

“You gonna judge me if I do?”

“Really depends on what you’ve got in mind.”

The look on his face was something she’d never seen before; he looked dangerous and boyish at the same time, like he was about to cause some mischief. It was more amusing than anything else, to be honest. It wasn’t like she was scared of what he might do-- and when he slid off the couch in favor of kneeling between her legs, she didn’t dare question him.

It was all too easy to arch her back and tangle her fingers in his overgrown hair-- Natasha missed this. She missed the wave of good feelings, but even more than that she missed the company of another person. She might push people away on an emotional level, but the physical stuff was totally different. Sex was something she thoroughly enjoyed and it was only made better by the fact that Steve was pretty much her rock right now.

The fact that he was really putting himself into this only urged her on and Natasha pointed her toes as she hooked her legs over his shoulders and tried to draw him in even more than that. Steve was fucking--- he was fucking  _good_ at this. She supposed she shouldn’t have been shocked, but he was so goddamn  _pure_ half the time. Why was someone as seemingly innocent as Steve so  _good_ at this?

“Ohh my God,” she groaned eventually. “Steve, what are you doing to me?”

Steve pulled his mouth off her for a moment and glanced up. “Good things,” he told her confidently. “Real good things, just relax.”

Natasha let her head fall back as he resumed his ministrations and tried to give herself over to what he was doing. Breathing hard, she was hit with a sudden shiver as she came with a muffled moan and tightened her thighs around his head. Steve didn’t pull away, though. No, he lapped at her until she was trembling and finally pushing him away with both feet on his shoulders.

Not even sure what to do with herself, she laid back on the couch and laughed deliriously as Steve crawled over her again.

“Don’t judge me, but I think-- just laying with you like this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

“I can’t judge you without judging myself,” she laughed softly. “Just stay like this for a while.”

“Hey.” Steve left a kiss on the side of her neck while Natasha traced up and down his back with the tips of her fingers. “I’ve got nowhere else to be."

 

After that, things changed subtly between them. They still talked about anything and everything while they lived their day to day lives in the new world, but Natasha got to share a bed with someone who really cared about her. She got to lose herself in Steve's lips and Steve's hands and Steve's big, warm arms just for a little normalcy every day. She got to know for sure that even if the world had gone to shit,  _he_  was there with her. They hadn’t said the big ‘L’ word yet, but that was okay.  Maybe it felt too risky in a world wherein their lives could be snuffed out in an sudden moment or one of them could contract The Virus and turn. It was understood; they didn’t have to say anything to one another.

 

All that really mattered was that Natasha would always have Steve’s back...

 

-hunting for food,

       --scavenging for medical supplies,

              ---taking out whatever walkers were putting them in danger,

                     ----trying their best to make a nice dinner out of whatever food scraps they found even though neither of them could cook

 

...and he would have hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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